


To Fall in Blood and Ashes

by Pennedwing



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: F/M, Katara - Freeform, Zuko - Freeform, Zutara
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-22
Updated: 2017-04-19
Packaged: 2018-03-31 18:50:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 39
Words: 108,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3988852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pennedwing/pseuds/Pennedwing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A different take on the Avatar: the Last Airbender story. During the 100 Year War, the Southern Water Tribe rises to power and Katara becomes Princess of the Water Empire, daughter of the cruel Emperor Hakoda. Prince Zuko, son of Fire Lord Ozai, must infiltrate the Water Empire to help save the world from its corrupt rule. But things don't always go as planned. (Zutara)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's note: I hope you enjoy going on this journey with me! Feel free to read and review or whatever :)**

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters, they belong to Bryke and nickelodeon**

* * *

It had been 100 years since the last avatar died. Some said a new avatar, an air nomad, was born as the cycle dictates. But in the fragile years between the death of the old and the growth of the new, there were those who believed that the world would be better ruled by one. And so, nations turned on one another, brother fought against brother, element against element. But no one expected that the victor who would rise from the blood of the fallen would be the Southern Water Tribe.

Gone was the simple group of hunters and fishermen who lived placidly in igloos and blindly followed the traditions of their ancestors. Corruption ran rampant. Blessed with an exorbitant number of highly gifted waterbenders, these warriors quickly grew in talent and ruthlessness. Their modest village transformed into a weaponry fortress, isolated from their enemies by the dangerous waters of the South. From their stronghold they were able to create safe channels by which they traveled to all the nations of the world to declare superiority. The leader of the Southern Water Empire, Emperor Lokai, first declared war on the Northern Water Tribe, and quickly absorbed the city into the Southern Water Empire. He then sought out the next avatar, an airbender, who he planned on using to secure the Water Empire's dominion. However, upon arriving at the Southern Air Temple, where the child was rumored to be studying, the young airbender was nowhere to be found. And when the Air Nomads there would not reveal the child's location, he eliminated them, as well as the entire population of airbenders, deciding that if the child would not assist him in his quest for power, he would not let him get in the way.

Emperor Lokai ruled the empire for the greater half of his life, but there were those who dared to oppose him. After the birth of his second son in his 66th year to a Northern harlot, a group of undercover Fire Nation rebels assassinated the Water Emperor as he slept in his chambers. All seven rebels were captured and executed publicly the day of the Emperor's funeral. His first-born son, Toonu, assumed the throne as the new Water Emperor at only 18 years old. Despite his young age, under his rule the war began a steep slope into what would be the bloodiest war in all of history. It was during this reign that bloodbending, a dangerous and violent bending technique, was discovered. It became mandatory training for all waterbenders, but it was soon determined that only certain benders could handle the immense physical power and psychological consequence of such a bending form. The Emperor's younger brother, Prince Hakoda, became one of those benders, and in his 16th year, killed the Emperor before he had an heir, and thus took over the throne. His father and brother's legacies were continued by this young, yet vicious ruler; in his second year of rule the Water Empire overthrew the Earth Kingdom, which had been weakened by constant pressure from both the Northern and Southern Water tribes, and in his eighth year, Emperor Hakoda began the attack on the Fire Nation. Swiftly he became the most feared Water Empire ruler in history, if not for his powerful bending abilities, then for his style of rule.

Public executions were almost a daily occurrence, a symbol of his low tolerance for disobedience. Because of his cruel demeanor, he was impossible to oppose in nearly every aspect of his life. He fathered his first child when he was only 18 to a girl from the South who worked in the palace, whom he made Water Empress, if only for appearance. To his great misfortune, the baby was a girl. It was no secret in the Water Empire that, upon hearing his first-born was female, he fully intended to drown her in the ocean, and even attempted to do so, for one tradition the Water Empire had upheld was that the heir to the throne be male. However, it was rumored that when the baby touched the water, the water began to glow. Only mere hours old, the Water Empire Princess displayed extraordinary waterbending abilities, and the Emperor knew that as she grew her powers would only grow with her, perhaps to even exceed his own.

Therefore, the Water Emperor allowed the girl to live, and, breaking tradition as he so often did, decided that she would become his heir. He named her Katara.

Two years later the Emperor fathered a son with a Northern harlot and named him Sokka, but was disappointed to learn that the child did not possess any bending abilities.

Throughout their lives, Emperor Hakoda tested his children against each other, and both were hardened by their father and the war that he continued. He forced his children to attend all Council meetings and every execution in the town square. The most skilled waterbending masters were found to teach Katara the basics, and her father personally taught her bloodbending, of which he considered himself a master. Sokka was trained as a warrior and fought his first battle at 12 years old. His father was delighted to learn he had killed four Fire Nation enemies.

The Fire Nation, though wounded by the 100 Year War, had not fallen. The Fire Lord was a strong leader by all counts, but his resistance was futile. Years earlier the Earth Kingdom and its weak King had surrendered and was now basically a large Water Empire colony. Water Empire citizens lived within the city walls of Ba Sing Se and Omashu, as well as small colonies outside of the major cities. In the years since Hakoda became Emperor the Water Empire had come much closer to overtaking the Fire Nation, and everyone knew it was only a matter of time.

Their forces had taken a major blow when the Princess of the Fire Nation had been captured and killed during a raid on the shores of a Fire Nation city that rested at the very edge of the Fire Nation's land. After five days of continuous fighting, the Water Empire had lost the battle, but the Fire Nation had lost their Princess. According to Water Empire sources inside the Fire capital, the Fire Lord had a second-born son he was keeping hidden away in case he ever fell from power, but no one had seen the boy in his 14 years. Emperor Hakoda was not concerned, however. At 14 his daughter was the most gifted bender in all of the nations—he had no reason to care about a boy that most people didn't even believe existed. Besides, soon the Fire Nation would burn in its own fire, and there would be no one to pick it up from the ashes.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapters 2&3 take place two years after the introduction ends.

"Again," the Emperor demanded, bending down into a fighting stance, his blue eyes sharp and icy with focus, staring her down as if she were nothing but an enemy. She, too, leaned into her fighting stance, and glared back with everything she had. The way you approach an enemy is always more important than what you plan on doing to them, her father would say. Don't let them see any weakness. And then strike for the kill.

So she did. She always did what her father told her.

In one swift motion, she pulled two jets of water from the clay jars lining the room and, with complicated twist of her arms, sent them shooting towards her father. One was supposed to pull his legs out from underneath; the other aimed for the center of his head. However, the Emperor easily bent them around his body and sent them hurtling back towards Katara at the opposite end of the room, who turned her body to the side, narrowly avoid the streams. She manipulated them into ice daggers in her hands and charged her father, surfing on ice walls as she approached so that she might skirt around him to his back and catch him off guard. But he knew this was coming and with a simple motion melted the wall so that she went tumbling forward and hit the wall. The daggers trickled to the floor and she pushed herself to her feet, stumbling a bit with vertigo.

"Do it now," he hissed, his dark face contorted with disgust. She hid a wince at a jolt of pain in her ribcage when she moved her arms up and out in front of her. She knew what he wanted her to do. It would be so easy to just reach out and inside him, to feel the throbbing energy and take control of it, as she had done so many times before. But it was different practicing on rats and wild dogs. She didn't like it, but they were just animals, and she never tried hard enough to cause them any real pain, just momentary panic. But with real people…it was an entirely different sensation. She had only done it a few times, and never to her father, but to her other instructors and only long enough to stop whatever attack they were attempting. But her father wanted her to incapacitate him. Were she any other person in the Nation, probably the world, she would be executed on the spot for even trying to do such a thing.

And the way he was glaring at her and panting, the air in front of his face condensing into icy droplets of breath, waiting for her to make a move, just made her freeze up. She couldn't do it. She wouldn't.

He seemed to see this resolve in her, and his face contorted with rage. "You're weak!" he shouted, and with a flurry of arms and hands, Katara was thrown down and forward into a kneeling position, her body moving of its own accord. Her bones and muscles screamed in protest, but she was powerless. She had been bloodbended before: Her instructors had done it so that she might understand what she was inflicting on others, probably to give her a taste of the power she would feel. But it had the opposite effect on her: She became terrified of the very ability that was supposed to make her feel unstoppable.

She bit back a cry of pain as her face smacked into the hard icy floor. She felt the impact split up through her skull and down her spine. Her knees had been crushed to the ground and she could feel the raking, bloody scratches that had bloomed there. From the corner of her eye she saw her father step closer, his bare feet leaving shallow indents in the ice behind him. And then he bent down so that she could see the side of his face, the rage gone, replaced with a biting disapproval.

"This is what will happen to you should you fail in battle. Not only will you fail your country and be forced to bow down to one who is not worthy, but your enemy will probably kill you." He slapped the cold ground and Katara felt the muscles of her back contract, pushing her ribs in on her legs which were trapped underneath her body, and the rib that was most likely broken sent a shockwave of pain through her stomach. "Feel what it's like to be powerless? Helpless? Let this be a lesson. Learn from it, daughter. Heir to the Water Empire throne should not know what it feels like to be powerless." As he stood he released his hold on her, and she fell to her side in a crumpled heap of bones and limbs. Her blood seemed to crawl in her veins as if too tired to keep flowing. She watched as he left the practice room and the two advisors who had been watching them spar followed his retreating figure. One of them threw a robe over his exposed torso and the other closed the door behind them without a glance at the fallen Water Empire Princess.


	3. Chapter 3

"Again!" the Fire Lord shouted from the opposite side of the room as he slid down into a fighting stance. Zuko mirrored his father as he lowered himself into a crouch, arms outstretched, ready to receive the first attack. Fire Lord Ozai lunged forward, sending a wave of bright orange flames towards his son who, leaping from his position, parted the fire in the center, hollowing out a space just large enough for his body. He was lanky, with muscles still developing from his pre-teen years, but the certainty in his movements made up for whatever lack of strength he may have had. Without hesitation he punched out from his chest and a lick of fire raced towards his father who brushed it aside with a flick of his hand as if it were nothing more than smoke.

Zuko had always admired his father's bending; it was beautiful and graceful, yet powerful, nothing less than expected from a firebending master, let alone the ruler of the entire Fire Nation. Zuko had learned from him and from his sister, who everyone had said was a prodigy before she left for battle. His father hadn't wanted her to go; as first in line for the throne, Azula was too valuable to be lost to the war which had dragged on for 100 years. But she was also one of the most gifted firebenders in the country, if not the entire world, and for two years her help at the frontlines of battle had been indispensable. The pain of her loss was born anew every morning. Zuko would wake in the early morning as the sun rose and stained the dark nighttime sky pink and red, and just for a moment, he would listen to hear his sister going through her warm-ups out in the courtyard. But he was always disappointed, and this disappointment reminded of why he had to do what he had to do. Why he had to take down the Water Empire.

He kicked out then in a circle, using his arms to propel the rest of his body, and a ring of fire erupted around him, spreading quickly through the training room. His father narrowly cleared the top of the ring and had to somersault to the ground on the other side of it. Zuko took this opportunity to sprint closer and, when he was only feet away, conjured a fire dagger in his hand, which he brought downward in an arc to the back of his father's neck.

Lord Ozai did not dare look up. The fire was less than an inch from his skin.

"I surrender," he said to his son, who immediately stood up and extinguished his weapon. He held out a hand to his father who was panting, his face red and sweaty, much like Zuko's. The two looked at each other for a long moment. Then Ozai, putting a hand on his son's shoulder, said, "You're ready."

Zuko nodded, trying to look confident despite the surge of dread that had just risen in his chest. He was ready for this task. It was his duty. It had taken him two years to get to this moment, and he wasn't about to desert all his hard work and the reason for which he had done it just because he was nervous. But his father's face fell, as if he was second-guessing himself.

"Are you sure about this?"

Zuko stood straighter and nodded once more. No more hesitation. No more doubt. He would do this. He would avenge his sister and save the Nations. But all he said out loud was, "It is my destiny."


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is where the story really begins. Katara and Zuko are now 18
> 
> And thank you to my wonderful beta Katie (spookykangaroo) for editing this for me!

**Two Years Later**

It was always dark in the morning, as if a void had opened up sometime in the night and sucked all of the light into it. There weren't many windows in the maze of halls that constituted the palace, so the darkness bounced off the walls of ice and stone. There was a constant moaning, a low sort of thrumming, in the halls at this time of day that Katara associated with the darkness. In the hustle and bustle of the daytime, when the palace was always swarming with advisors and representatives and warriors, you couldn't hear much of anything besides the jumbled buzz of one thousand things happening at once. She often suffered from headaches resulting from the sheer mass of  _things_ occurring in one place at one time. But in this stillness of the early morning when the torches had yet to be lit and the only distinguishable noise was the deep bass humming of the dark, she found peace.

Katara went up the stairs to her right that led to the third level of the palace where the cooks and servants lived. The royal family and important political and military figures lived on the first level which was underground, so if there were an attack, they'd be safe and could escape through the complex web of tunnels that ran underneath the capital city. The second level was above ground and housed meeting and training rooms. The third level consisted of a few living chambers for the palace workers. Katara avoided these rooms as to not wake anyone and arouse suspicion as to why she was up at this hour and, more importantly, with the riff-raff and the peasants lucky enough to be working within the castle. Instead, she kept to the side of the floor where the kitchen and laundry rooms were. Soon, however, she came to what seemed to be the end of the hall. She looked behind her before quietly bending a hole in the ceiling and lifting herself through with a gentle stream of water.

And then she could finally breathe.

No one ever went on the roof of the palace. Two slanted sheets of solid ice met at the top and created a slope spotted here and there with outcroppings of vents, one of which Katara now sat beside. She had found the spot years earlier and had visited often once she realized that it hid her from curious eyes while allowing her to see the sunrise. As soon as she was settled down she saw the first blossom of sunrays rising from the Eastern horizon. They seemed to reach out like fingers, pulling on the fabric of the night to hoist the sun higher in the sky. The bright clementine colors met the deep violet of night and a soft pink seemed to bleed from the clash. The sunrays kept pulling the sky and the darkness of night fell below the horizon until the sky became a baby blue, like the color of the shallow water that ebbed on the shores in the West.

She knew she had lingered too long already, but she gave herself five more seconds to enjoy the peace before she threw herself back into the tumult.  _Five_ , the softness of the baby blue sky;  _four_ , the faint whistling of a new day's breeze;  _three_ , the steady lapping of the ocean against the ice;  _two_ , the smell of sea salt brushing her skin and curling her hair;  _one,_  the solid, living energy of the water around the land, of the ice underneath her hands.

Then she moved the ice around her and let her body drop through the ceiling to the floor of the third level. Pausing only to close the hole above her, she hurried back down three flights of stairs to her chambers and threw on her royal regalia—a navy blue gown over a pair of black trousers—before anyone could walk in and see her still in her nightgown. She was just putting up her hair into the required up-do when one of her father's advisors walked in—unannounced—to inform her that her father was waiting in the Great Hall. She nodded and dismissed the man before letting out a deep, relieved sigh. She did the rest of her hair haphazardly, figuring no one would really care since they would be paying attention to her father all day, and grabbed her water skin before hurrying from the room, almost running into her brother in the hallway.

"Sokka!" she exclaimed, putting a hand over her rapidly beating heart. He had surprised her with his sudden appearance.

"Hey, sis," he said, leaning casually against the opposite wall. "Have a nice outing this morning?"

Katara glared at him. She had a feeling someone had been watching her as she snuck out of her room earlier, even though she'd made sure no one was outside when she left. Figures it was him. Her brother had an uncanny ability to make himself invisible when it was convenient for him. He'd discovered many of her secrets that way, like when he caught her lounging in her father's throne when he'd been away on business, or last year when he followed her to the third floor where she had been spending time with a certain servant boy who had mysteriously disappeared only days after her brother had found them together.

But she simply ignored her younger brother. He wouldn't do anything or tell anyone of her secret—sitting on the roof of the palace was a bit improper, sure, but nothing she could be punished for. At least she hoped. Besides, if he turned her into their father, she could always claim he went up there with her. He couldn't disprove it. Getting her in trouble was the only way he could get on his father's good side, and they both knew it. Their father wouldn't  _want_ to punish his daughter, his prodigy, and the heir to his throne.

"What?" he laughed as she rolled her eyes at him and kept walking. "I'm just having some fun with you, come on," he elbowed her in the arm as he caught up to her.

She stayed silent, though and soon he quieted too as they went up the stairs and down the hall that housed the Great Hall; a large, cold room with one long table at which sat at least 50 chairs. Meetings held in that room were important and private, open only to the most influential members of the Water Empire, Katara and Sokka included. This morning a war meeting was scheduled during which they were supposed to discuss an arriving shipment of fire and Earth Kingdom refugees who were captured outside of Omashu, and what they were going to do with them all.

"There are far more than we can manage here," General Attika said when they broached the subject an hour later. Katara turned to look at her father, who was looking at the General to his right with his chin resting on the heel of his hand. He said nothing, but Katara could tell he was contemplating. Say what you want about her father, but he was never one to make an impulsive decision. Even in casual conversation he was always aware of the tone, which way he wanted the conversation to go, and how he could manipulate it so that he achieved the result he wanted. This meeting was no different. They had pushed the topic of the refugees off until the very end of the meeting, and now, as Katara looked around, she could see that everyone, save for her father, was visibly exhausted. Her father could probably say or do anything he liked and everyone would agree just to be finished with it.

Beside her, Sokka was playing with his knife, carving some silly design in the ice table. He had been joking throughout the entire meeting, but now it seemed that even  _he_ was finished. Katara sat up straighter. Even though she was tired as well, as the heir to the Water Empire throne, she had to put on an appearance. Even if she wasn't as alert as her father she could certainly act like it.

"And what do  _you_ , General, suggest we do with them all?" the Emperor finally said, reversing the conversation to the General, who looked surprised. He hadn't expected to be asked his opinion.

"Well, I-I think we should send them back, sir. Your Highness. They won't do us any good here—only put a strain on our food and other resources."

Her father cocked his head. "Did you not say that these refugees were the ones who resisted arrest? The ones who refused to be sent to the jails of Omashu?"

"I did, Emperor Hakoda."

"Then why would we ever release them, when they could easily decide to rise up against the Water Empire?" Her father's voice had taken on a subtle edge, but it was there. Everyone around the table seemed to notice the shift and sat up in their seats, straightened their backs.

"They are rebels," he continued, "traitors to the Water Empire, and must be put to death."


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the kudos and please feel free to leave comments! I hope to update at least once a week with at least one chapter from now on

_This is what you wanted_ , Zuko had to keep reminding himself with every torturous sway of the Water Empire ship that threatened to unload the contents of his stomach all over the floor. And this  _was_  what he wanted, what he and his father had devised. He was on his way to the Water Empire, and his identity was still secret. But he hadn't exactly taken the rickety, wooden Water Empire ships into account. Unlike the metal Fire Nation ships, these were entirely made of wood and powered by wind, which made them fast and efficient, but awfully uncomfortable to ride in, especially when you were being held captive in the brig.

All around him Fire Nation and Earth Kingdom refugees were curled up next to one another, either barely sleeping or, like him, barely keeping down their dinner of bread and ale. He was leaning against the starboard side of the ship, his head bumping against the wooden planks, elbows resting on his knees. He tried to convince himself that if he just closed his eyes and focused on the sound of the water lapping against the side of the upper deck, he was back home at the palace, sitting by the turtleduck pond. When he touched the floorboards he could almost feel the supple green grass that tickled his shins when he sat and threw bread to the turtleducks; he could hear them quack as they caught the bread in midair and swam in happy circles. His mother had first introduced him and Azula to the little pond in the courtyard when they were children. Azula had thrown a rock at the turtleducks and ever since then they'd disliked her. But they were happy to waddle over to Zuko and let him pick them up, to pet their heads and scratch the space beneath their shells where their feet couldn't reach.

The man beside Zuko suddenly began gagging and Zuko opened his eyes just in time to see the vomit splatter all over his shirt. He cupped a hand over his mouth and nose partly to avoid the smell and also to prevent himself from vomiting as well.

"Sorry," the man grumbled up at Zuko before rolling over to his other side and curling into a fetal position, falling to sleep instantly, apparently able to sleep better now. Zuko turned his head to the side, away from the vomit, and took a few deep, cleansing breaths, careful not to let any fire or smoke escape from his mouth or nose.

He pushed himself to his feet and walked over to the heavy wooden door at the end of the brig. He knocked twice and loudly asked if he could get some water to clean off his shirt. The door opened just wide enough for a Water Empire guard to stick his head through and frown at the stench of Zuko's shirt.

"What did you do to yourself?" the man muttered and pinched his nose.

"I didn't do—oh, never mind. Can I clean this off? Now, please?" he asked, irritated. He knew he was pushing it, since the guard wouldn't hesitate to punish insubordinates, but the smell was really getting to him, and he was getting closer and closer to losing his own dinner.

The guard nodded and let him through the door, but roughly grabbed onto the back of his shirt. "Don't try anything reckless, or else," he warned, and Zuko nodded, biting his tongue. Even if he did try to escape, he knew he wouldn't get off the ship. And even if he did, he was completely surrounded by ocean. Besides, it wasn't time to make his move. Not yet.

The guard accompanied him to the upper deck where a water barrel sat next to a set of stairs leading to the wheel, where Zuko saw a man in a traditional Water Empire uniform sailing the boat. Zuko took off his shirt and dipped it in the water, trying to rub off the chunks of half-digested bread. He had to clench his lips shut and push back against the bile that rose in his throat. While he washed he looked around, taking count of the number of crew members on board. If they were all just warriors, and the refugees could be motivated to act, he was sure that they could overthrow them. However, most of the warriors were probably waterbenders as well, and in that case they were at a definite disadvantage since it was nearly nighttime and they were surrounded by water. Zuko looked up.

"Looks like a full moon," he commented, not looking back at his guard.

"Sure does," the guard replied, and Zuko could hear the confidence in his voice. His stomach sank. Bloodbenders would be at their most powerful tonight.

It was a disgusting ability, Zuko thought with a grimace, and threw his shirt back into the water, scrubbing furiously. It entirely took away a person's control over their own body. It was shameful. It was vile. It was dishonorable. And it was terrifying.

When he had first heard of the Water Empire's new ability from his father when he was young, it had scared him straight to the core. Azula had argued that it was impossible.

"Waterbenders bend  _water_ , Daddy. Not blood."

Only after he explained how the body was made of a majority of water did they understand the absolute power of the method of bending, and how dangerous waterbenders were for being able to harbor such an ability.

The night before she left for battle, Azula confessed to Zuko that this was her one fear of heading into the fray of the war. She was only 16, but by then she was a firebending prodigy and one of the most skilled warriors in the Nation. Zuko was 14, and still learning the basics of his skill.

"I'm not scared of them," she had said confidently. "I'm a far better firebender than any of those water peasants." And he believed her, because she was. She had only been a toddler when she first showed signs of bending ability. She had learned from the best firebending masters and had swiftly surpassed them. She was virtually unbeatable. "But those bloodbenders…" she started, and the fear was evident in her voice, which had surprised Zuko, because she rarely showed any weakness. She was everything her father wanted in an heir, whereas he was only a cheap knock-off, a backup in case anything should happen to his prodigy. She was sure in everything she did, in every move she made, in every step she took. But then, in that moment, sitting next to the turtleduck pond in the courtyard the twilight before she left for war, a single tear fell down her cheek. "How could someone ever do that to another person? It's…it's not human."

In that moment of vulnerability, Zuko prayed to the gods that Azula wouldn't have to go to war and face the very people she so feared. But she did. And eight months later, when they learned of her defeat, Zuko thought back to that moment by the turtleduck pond and prayed once more to the gods that she hadn't fallen at the hand of a bloodbender. He hoped that, with her last breath, she had fought with the passion of the Fire Nation Princess—not that she had cried with the fear of a child whose blood had been stolen from her.

They had never been particularly close—he could call her his sister, and if she needed his help he was always there for her—but he hadn't expected to feel such a sense of overwhelming loss, like a rock was sitting in his stomach and constantly pulling him down to the ground. His father had locked himself away in his room for a week, during which time all major decisions had been left to his advisors, not to Zuko. No one trusted him to rule a nation feeling the way he did, and he was glad for it. If, in those days while he grieved, he'd had a choice in the matter, he would have ended the war right then and there and surrendered to the Water Empire. But then, after the grief and sorrow faded to a dull roar in the back of his mind, and the rock in his stomach shrank to a small—but painful—pebble, he realized that the war couldn't end until his people, and all people, were free. He had to take action. The Water Empire had to be brought to justice. And he hungered for the opportunity to serve it to them.

Since then he had trained in secret with his father and masters, and his firebending was at its peak, as were his sword skills and hand-to-hand combat. His father had been reluctant to agree to Zuko's plan. After all, he was next in line for the throne. If anything were to happen to Zuko and his father, the Fire Nation would be left without a legitimate ruler. However, a year after Azula's death their mother became pregnant with her third child, and a son was born. Zuko had trained relentlessly when he realized there would be another heir to the throne, and soon had convinced his father that he could accomplish this task. To infiltrate the Water Empire and take it down from the inside. Everyone knew that Emperor Hakoda was a corrupt ruler. The world would be better off without him. And his daughter, who was poised to take the throne in the event of her father's death, would be easy enough to dispatch. Zuko had heard of her exceptional waterbending abilities, but she was no match for him: He had vengeance on his side. Then there was the son, the second-born, but he wasn't even a bender. No non-bender, no matter how good of a warrior, was a match for a trained firebender like himself. He would end their line, no matter what. Even if it resulted in his death. The world would thank him for his sacrifice. It was his destiny.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These next few chapters are shorter than the previous few, so I decided to upload 3 chapters this week. Thank you for the reviews and kudos and as always, thank you to my beta Katie!  
> Please feel free to review and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own any characters from A:tLA, they belong to nickelodeon and Bryke

“…and must be put to death.”

The Emperor said this casually, as if he were telling the cooks what he might like for dinner, not sentencing a mass of innocent people to death. There was an audible silence around the Great Hall. Even Sokka quit playing with his knife and looked up. Katara stared at the table. Of course she thought it was an awful idea, but she did not dare express this. To doubt her father in the privacy of her own mind was one thing, but to oppose him out loud?

As if reading her mind, the Emperor turned to her. “Katara, what do you think? As heir to my throne, you must begin forming your own opinions about such matters, even if you are only a woman,” he chuckled, and a few men around the table laughed with him. She saw Sokka smile wide out of the corner of her eye. _Sexist hogmonkeys_ , she thought bitterly, feeling tears prick the back of her eyes. Even though she was heir to the throne, she would never be more to these men than a little girl playing dress up with her father’s crown.

She knew she was blushing furiously, but she raised her head anyway, swallowing back the hurt she felt like a lump in her throat.

“You are absolutely right, Father.”

The laughing stopped instantly. One of the men across the table made a show of cleaning out his ear, as if he hadn’t heard her right. But her father looked at her steadily and so she continued. “They are traitors and rebels, and must be punished accordingly.” He nodded almost imperceptibly and opened his mouth to speak. “However,” she said quickly, and hoped he would not punish her for interrupting, “it would be too easy to simply end their lives, and I do not believe it would send the right message to the Fire Nation and Earth Kingdom.”

“No?” the Emperor said, visibly amused. She shook her head and glanced around the table. She saw a mix of emotions: Fear, confusion, amusement, like her father. Sokka, she saw, was now glaring at her, gripping his knife like he wanted to stab it through her chest.

“No,” she said, refocusing on her father. “The people of the fire and earth nations already think we’re bloodthirsty savages, bent on destroying anything and everything that opposes us. And they’re not wrong,” she added with a smirk, eliciting a few noises of approval from the room. “Killing their refugees will only enforce that image, give them reason to continue to fight. But,” she started with a surge of anticipation. An idea was already forming, a plan to spare as many lives as possible without looking weak. In fact, if this plan worked, she and the Water Empire would look even stronger, despite a reduced number of lost lives.

“What if we only kill half of the refugees? The weakest, the oldest, those with nothing to give. Put their heads on stakes, parade them through the city, stone them. Do what you want. Take the other half, those with something to offer. Imprison them, starve them, break them, and then put them to work. Give them something to live for. If you can convert them to the Water Empire, they’ll have no reason to want to fight against us. Even more so, we will show the earth and fire nations that their people would rather stay with us—that they believe we are worthy rulers. They don’t have to know about the means, just the ends. They say keep your friends close and your enemies closer. Keep the refugees in the city.” Katara finished talking and stilled, breathing in and out through her nose, worried about the static silence that had overtaken the room while she spoke. Her father had not once looked away from her, but his eyes had narrowed, and his mouth was drawn downward. She turned away from his stare and bowed her head respectfully.

Finally, _finally_ , he spoke. “General, perhaps my daughter should take your job.”

Her head snapped up. The Emperor looked at General Attika contemplatively, and the General, wide-eyed and sweating, was opening and closing his mouth like a fish, speechless. In fact, no one spoke, and there were few frightening moments of uncertainty, until her father clapped him on the back. “I’m just joking, old friend. Although,” he paused, looking back at Katara, “my daughter _is_ exceptionally bright for her age.” He smiled widely, but his eyes were probing. “I’ll have to keep an eye on you, my dear.” Katara did not miss the threat delicately woven in his words.


	7. Chapter 7

A hand shoved his exposed back and he stumbled forward into the water barrel. Zuko looked away from the glowing silver moon to glare at the guard, who bared his crooked, grimy teeth.

“Quit making oogie eyes at the moon and hurry up. How long does it take to wash a shirt, anyways?”

Zuko pulled his soaked shirt from the water and shook it a few times, purposefully splattering the guard, who flinched. Zuko smirked. Luckily, it was hidden in the darkness, or else he might have been whipped right there on the deck.

“Come on,” the guard grumbled and knocked him forward. Zuko put the shirt back on and took one more glance around the deck. Many of the guards had retired to their sleeping quarters, wherever that was, and he had a clear view of the bow of the ship. He did a double take when he saw something tall and white, glowing almost as brightly as the moon, rising in the distance.

“The Southern Water Empire,” he whispered, awestruck. Even at this distance Zuko could tell that it was far larger than he and his father had ever imagined. The ship’s path was blocked by huge icebergs that seemed to form an impenetrable barrier, and Zuko wondered how they could possibly avoid all of them. The moon rose as they approached and illuminated the wide expanse of land ahead of them. A great wall of ice shielded the capital city and the Water Empire crest was carved into the center of it. His teachers had told him that the Northern Water tribe used to look like this before the Southern tribe rose to power and dominated the once-great city.

Then to his right he saw a handful of Water Empire sailors emerge from a door on the floor of the deck and take their positions at the front of the ship. The guard was still pushing him towards the door that would take them back to the brig, but Zuko craned his neck, trying to see what the sailors would do. All of them moved in unison, raising their arms high above their heads in a sweeping motion to the right, and the iceberg nearest the boat floated in that direction, like it had been blown by the slight sea breeze.

 _Waterbenders_ , Zuko realized, and was immensely glad he hadn’t arranged a coup with the other refugees. With one final shove the guard pushed Zuko through the door and he stumbled down the stairs to the brig, only just keeping himself from falling on his face. The guard didn’t say another word as he locked Zuko inside the room. The stench of vomit and dirty bodies hit him like a wall, and he backed up against the door, wishing he was outside again, even if there _was_ an army of waterbenders who would love to kill him if they learned who he was. Then again, maybe death was better than this smelly torture.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: All characters from A:tLA belong to Bryke and Nickelodeon


	8. Chapter 8

Two days later, Katara and Sokka emerged from the bowels of the palace to meet the ships that landed in the harbor at the northern edge of the Empire. Her father had put Katara in charge of sorting out the strong refugees from the weak, much to her chagrin. She had tossed and turned for the last two nights dreading this day. The time had finally come to implement the plan she had so confidently suggested, and now she felt anything but. She tried to comfort herself in the knowledge that only half of the 300-some prisoners would meet their demise, but it did little to calm the trembling in her stomach.

Sokka stood beside her in full warrior gear, observing the ships as they began to unload the refugees. Katara glanced over at him and envied his calm demeanor. Sure, he was usually a goofball and had few redeeming qualities, but he could be serious when he wanted. He was entirely in control of his emotions, whereas she felt like a nervous wreck. _Get a grip_ , she ordered herself. She couldn’t afford to show any weakness. What would her father say? _The way you approach an enemy is always more important than what you plan on doing to them._ She wanted to approach them fearlessly, as a leader. But were these people really her enemies?

_Don’t think like that._ Of course they were. They were rebels. But even rebels were human; they didn’t deserve to die whatever gruesome death her father had planned. She could only save so many of them. So she squared her shoulders and steeled her gaze at the Water Empire ships. The first guards were exiting the ramp and she could see the bobbing heads of refugees behind them, chained together and herded like cattle off the ship and down to the ice. Many lost their footing, dragging down those chained to their row, before they finally got their balance and realized how to walk on the slippery ground. Katara and Sokka started forward to meet the captain of the lead ship who was lumbering towards them.

“Your Highnesses,” he said, bowing low as they met in the middle. Katara dipped her head towards him. He was a tall, broad-shouldered man with dark leathery skin that could only be a result of years out at sea, facing the elements on a daily basis.

“Are all refugees accounted for?” Katara asked, clasping her hands behind her back. She would usually be able to touch the ends of her hair since it reached her waist, but today it was styled on top of her head in the royal tradition. Instead of a gown she wore formal training gear and had a large sword strapped across her shoulders that she wouldn’t use—didn’t know _how_ to use—but made her look more intimidating. At least, that’s what her brother said, and she couldn’t tell if he had been mocking her or not. Nonetheless the weapon was unnecessary; if she needed to use force her bending would do.

The captain cleared his throat. “49 prisoners did not make the journey. Their souls and bodies rest at sea.”

Katara ignored his use of the word prisoners, as she knew many citizens of the capital, including her father, believed this is exactly what the refugees were. Instead, she was more concerned about the latter half of his statement. “What do you mean they rest at sea? Were you not instructed to bring the bodies to the capital?” She had fully intended to send the deceased back to Omashu for proper burial.

The man’s eyebrows pulled in. “Of course, your Highness. But it was a long journey, and bodies…well, they don’t bode so well on the tides.”

Of course. She felt ridiculous for not understanding earlier. She licked her lips, intending to say something, _anything_ that would make her seem less foolish, when Sokka cut in.

“So how many of the living remain, Captain?”

“About 250, sir. They just about reached capacity on all the ships. We were afraid we’d have to send for another ship, but we managed to squeeze them all in.”

Katara felt another flutter in the bottom of her stomach imagining all the refugees in such close quarters, with limited food supply, in those dank, dark ships. Also, they had exceeded the estimated number. She would have to figure out how to get rid of the extras.

Meanwhile, the refugees had reached the triad in the middle of the harbor and were parting around them like a stream breaks for a boulder. Katara watched them as they passed slowly, hunched over, reeking of bile and urine, their eyes stuck to the pale white ground on which they walked with bare feet. Her father’s voice sounded in her head: _Don’t let them see any weakness._ She met the Captain’s eye.

“Line them up over there.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: All characters from A:tLA belong to Bryke and Nickelodeon


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the weird lengths of these chapters! And I'll probably be making minor edits after it's published, so just ignore any grammatical errors :)
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own Avatar or its characters yada yada yada

            They were arranged in a seemingly random order along the massive wall of ice that marked the outskirts of what must have been the capital city. Zuko stood solemnly, his hands chained and resting on his stomach, wondering what she would do to them. He had seen them earlier, the girl and her brother, who he could only guess were the Water Empire Princess and Prince. They looked ordinary enough. Both were dressed in uniforms that looked much warmer than what they, the prisoners, were wearing. Zuko was fortunate enough to have been captured in a long sleeve shirt and pants. Others were wearing only their underclothing or a ripped shirt and trousers, if they were lucky. No one had shoes, and the icy landscape cut Zuko’s feet like frozen knives. Soon, he figured, he’d hardly be able to feel them at all.

            The man he was standing next to—an elderly Earth Kingdom man with a long white beard and tired eyes—was only dressed in a threadbare shirt and cut-off pants. Zuko longed to help the old man, but right now he was barely strong enough to keep himself warm. They had run out of food the day before and many hadn’t made it through the chilly night. Sickness and starvation had taken the weakest, mostly the elderly and young children. Zuko had watched in horror as a woman across the room held a child in her arms as he took his last breaths, and had heard her agonizing shrieks as she realized that her son was dead. He had forced himself to look away when the guards came in and took the babe from her arms and threw her to the ground, knocking her out. Perhaps that was more humane, for Zuko heard the splash outside the vessel minutes later that could only mean one thing.

            They weren’t bringing the deceased to land.

            The man beside Zuko cleared his throat, which turned into a cough, which turned into violent hacking. His chest heaved and he doubled over.

            “Are you okay?” Zuko asked. The man tried to nod, but it only resulted in another coughing fit. Zuko patted the man’s back until he managed to control himself and stand back up. Even so, old age had given him a hunched back, and it was obvious from his physique that he was not in good health.

            But when he looked up at Zuko and smiled, he saw a lifetime of joy in his eyes. “Thank you, young man,” he said in a crackling voice. “This old body isn’t what it used to be.” He chuckled and Zuko managed a small grin. There were so many people around him who wouldn’t live through this night, and the Princess was making them stand out in the cold rather than getting them food and medical attention. His smile faltered. The Water Empire was truly full of monsters.

            The Princess and her brother walked out in front of the crowd, then, and faced them. At this point Zuko didn’t care if he was being insubordinate; he glared at her, wanting to burn her where she stood.

            “Attention!” she called out, and it took the crowd a few moments to silence. She peered up and down the row of prisoners as if assessing them, and Zuko wondered what she was doing. He felt angry and hurt and cold and tired and hungry. They were all suffering, and she was gaping at them as if they were a herd of cow-swine she could purchase and sell to traders. “As you all know,” she began once she could be heard, “you are refugees from the Earth Kingdom and Fire Nation, and have been brought here because you resisted arrest by the Water Empire.”

Zuko ground his teeth. _So that’s what she’s calling us to ease her guilty conscience: ‘Refugees’._

The Princess continued. “This act alone is grounds for public execution here in the Water Empire.”

            At this there was an audible rumble from the prisoners, some of outrage, others of disbelief. Zuko couldn’t say anything. He couldn’t even move. He had assumed they would all be held in the capital, either in servitude or prison. And now everything he had worked for was about to be destroyed.

Distantly, he noticed the man next to him did not say anything. In fact, he didn’t look surprised at all.

            “This isn’t my first time around the block,” the man said suddenly and Zuko looked down at him. He wondered if he had unknowingly spoken out loud.

The old man continued. “I fought in the war many years ago, back when Emperor Toonu was still alive. Many of us didn’t survive. I was one of the lucky ones.” He laughed, but it was short and bitter. “Serves me right that I die here where I should have died so many years ago.”

            Zuko wanted to protest, to tell him that he would live, that they all would, but he couldn’t. He simply didn’t know, and he couldn’t lie to the old man.

            “However,” the Princess continued, and began walking up and down the line, her eyes probing. “The Water Empire has decided that, as an act of amnesty, only half of you here will suffer that fate.”

            Zuko’s eyes widened. There was a chance. A slim one, but still, it was there. Besides, he couldn’t be so close to completing his mission and fail right at the finish line. The training, the planning, the waiting…all for nothing?

He wondered how they would decide who lived and who died. Probably the Earth Kingdom prisoners would live and the Fire Nation prisoners would die. It only made sense. The Fire Nation was the only stronghold left to face the Water Empire—surely they wouldn’t allow him to live another day in opposition. He could practically feel the knife on his throat, the drip of his blood, the last ragged breath he would take before everything went dark. Or perhaps it would be the water whip piercing a hold through his heart, making him feel every ounce of pain as the life drained from him.

_No_ , he realized with a dreadful certainty, _they’ll use bloodbending. Maybe they’ll stop our hearts, or seep all the blood from our bodies. It would definitely make a statement. Prove their power._ Zuko was thinking so deeply he didn’t catch what the Princess was saying. He only started listening when he saw the old man beside him stiffen, and then sag in defeat.

            “—to the bottom of that hill, and back,” she finished.

            “What? What’d she say?” he whispered to the old man in panic.

            He looked up at Zuko and there was pity in his eyes. “Get to the bottom of the hill and back. The last 100 will die.”

 

* * *

 

 

            Zuko stared open-mouthed at the man who so flippantly described the mass death of 100 prisoners. Then he looked back at the Princess who had joined her brother to the side of the row of people. She was surveying them with an odd look that seemed half-excited, half-nervous.

            Without warning, she shouted “Go!” and there was a flurry of movement all around him. Men, women, and children with whom he had shared a prison shoved past him. There were screams and cries as the slow and weak were trampled, and Zuko lost his own footing. Somehow the flow of people carried him forward and he was headed towards the hill. He had lost sight of the old man that he had stood beside, and he could only hope he had somehow made his way to the front of the pack.

The chains around his wrists were cumbersome, but Zuko finally got his footing and kept a steady pace with the people around him, a crowd of five or six thick. Only when he stole a glance behind him did he realize that he was towards the back of the group.

            _I’m going to die_. The reality of it was paralyzing. He would not complete his mission. He would fail. He would be publicly executed, and his father would have two dead children.

            As soon as the thought entered his mind, he knew it could not happen. He would not put his father through that pain again. His feet were pounding the ground, but he pushed them harder. His lungs were racing against his heartbeat and he briefly wondered which would give out first.

Gradually, but with agonizing slowness, he began to move farther up in the group. The sound of thundering feet grew louder with each footfall and the base of the hill came into view. People were already on their way back, colliding with those still running for the hill, and Zuko was spun around by a woman with wide, crazy eyes, sprinting back towards the Princess. When he reached the hill he saw there were guards there ensuring that everyone ran all the way to the base before turning back, which he did simultaneously with about 10 other people. His breath came in wet wheezes and his legs were no longer burning as they’d once been, but were numb. His body moved on its own now, without his say. All he could see was the line of people collapsed on the ground in front of him; the ones who had made it.

The ones who would live.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to be away for the next two(ish) weeks so I'm going to post a few more chapters tonight. Enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own Avatar or its characters because Bryke called dibs

“So that’s it,” Sokka said, peering at the group of people who’d been separated from the others. 100 exactly.

            “That’s it,” Katara replied. She nodded at a soldier on the opposite side of the line, and he began rounding up the 100 with a few other guards, gathering them and taking them into the city. From there, Katara knew they’d be taken to holding cells underground to await whatever her father had planned for them. He hadn’t divulged that particular detail to her, but she could imagine. Actually, it would probably be worse than whatever she might imagine.

            “We’ll initiate the second phase tomorrow,” she said to both Sokka and the Captain. “For now, set up tents out here and start some fires. Give them some food. Unchain them. They’ll need their strength for the next trial.”

“But your Highness,” the Captain started, stepping forward. “What if they try to escape?”

Katara eyed the man with his Navy uniform and military grade water skins. He appeared strong, but she saw the dark skin under his eyes. He was tired. So were all the guards. But the refugees were too.

“They won’t survive the night even if they do.” Katara turned and walked past the 150 refugees collapsed on the ground, the ones who were safe for the night. They watched her pass warily, their eyes never leaving her figure. She knew she should feel angry towards them, or disgusted, but she only felt pity. Regret. And yet, there was nothing she could do about it. She couldn’t help them anymore or spare them from what was to come. And that made her angrier than anything else could.

            She and Sokka strolled down the main street of the capital flanked by armed guards. Citizens bowed and scraped the ground as they passed, averting their eyes. Katara kept looking forward like she had been taught. As royalty, she was not supposed to acknowledge the peasants; the workers and the fishermen, the hunters and craftsmen. Sokka was better at ignoring them than she. He kept up a constant flow of chatter as they made their way back to the palace, mostly commenting on what had just occurred, and how pathetic the refugees had been.

            “Most of them couldn’t even keep themselves upright,” he chortled, spinning his knife in his hand.

            “Most of them hadn’t been fed in days,” she snapped back. He glanced at her, but she kept staring forward.

            “Alright, Miss Touchy, relax. I was just making an observation.” They walked on in silence until they reached the staircase to the palace. “But did you see that one guy? Man, I didn’t think he was gonna make it at first.”

            She nodded. She knew exactly who he was talking about. One boy, probably her age, hadn’t started running when everyone did. Whether he hadn’t heard the start command or was too cold she wasn’t sure. But soon he had passed almost everyone, and then led the line on the way back from the hill. It was an incredible act of finesse, but also unusual. He should have been weak, starved, and cold like all the other refugees, and yet he managed to secure his spot for tomorrow’s phase. She wondered what his story was. He was obviously Fire Nation by his dark hair and pale skin, but he had a wide burn mark covering his eye and cheek. Why would they have hurt their own citizen?

Katara was curious, but couldn’t afford to dwell on it for long. They had entered the palace and their father was waiting just inside for them, an expectant look on his face.

            “Well?” he asked.

            Sokka piped up. “There are 150 prisoners remaining, Father. It was great! You should have seen the way they ran for their lives!” The Emperor smiled at his son’s enthusiasm, then looked to Katara.

            “And everything went according to plan?”

            Katara nodded, unable to say much else. An annoying lump had lodged itself in her throat. Moments passed and she remained silent. The Emperor’s expression gradually shifted to something akin to disappointment.

“I see.” He patted Sokka on the shoulder. “Then you are both dismissed. I expect to hear a full report tomorrow,” he directed to Katara, who only bowed her head. Her brother and father’s passion for the day’s events struck something in her, something uneasy. Why couldn’t she just feel the same way as they did?

But this was how it must be. Even if it hurt, she knew she had to put on a mask to do what had to be done.

 


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Avatar characters except my own (Roz and any eventual characters) so there.

After a restless night of tossing and turning on the unyielding, icy ground, Zuko was finally snapped out of his sleepless trance by shouting from outside his tent. He, three men and a boy had all been stuffed in one small tent that smelled as if it was made of seal hide. It was so cramped he'd had to lie facing one of the men's smelly, frostbitten feet.

At the sudden noise the men woke at once and started clambering from the tent, leaving Zuko and the boy, who was still asleep, alone. Zuko leaned over to shake his shoulder.

"Hey. Hey, kid. Wake up."

The boy moaned and tried to roll over, but Zuko held fast to his shoulder. "Come on, kid, we've got to go."

There was another groan and then he rolled onto his back so that Zuko could see his face squinting up at him. "My name isn't kid, it's Roz."

Zuko found himself sincerely grinning. "Sorry, Roz. My name's Zuko." He held out a hand for Roz to shake, and they both sat up.

"What's going on?" Roz asked, only just hearing the commotion outside. "Where'd the other guys go?"

"They left already," Zuko said, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his hand. He took another look at the kid. He had long, oily black hair, similar to his own but shaggier, and deep gold eyes. Fire Nation, he recognized, and immediately felt something stir in his chest. This was the first time he'd actually spoken to someone from the Fire Nation this whole trip, and he felt a sense of familiarity with the boy who shared his homeland.

And then Roz was standing and busting through the flaps of the tent, calling for Zuko to follow him. Wincing at the tight pull of his muscles, sore from yesterday's unexpected bout of exercise, he followed Roz out into the open. The Southern air was biting and sent a chill down his back, all the way to his feet, which had already gone numb. His bending kept them from getting frostbite, but he knew it was only a matter of time before he ran out of heat. The soldiers had set a few fires the last night, which had helped, but not much.

Roz, who was waiting outside the tent for him, grabbed his arm as if they were already friends, and started towing him towards the people who had gathered at the edge of the city. He saw two figures surrounded by guards coming down the hill from the palace and he knew it was the Princess and her brother. He didn't hide the grimace that distorted his face. They were disgusting to him, and he didn't care who knew it.

When they reached the crowd, Roz ferreted his way through the layers of people so the two of them stood towards the front, with only one line of people between them and the royals. Zuko saw the Princess's eyes glide over those who had come out, and thought he saw her pause at his face. He knew what she was seeing: His scar. A bright, ugly red mark that marred his features. Few people knew how he had come about it since he never shared the story with anyone. But she quickly moved on and stepped forward to address them.

"As I said yesterday, we put you through these training exercises to select the strongest of you to work for the Water Empire. Yesterday, you proved your worth by completing the first phase."

The first phase? Zuko thought. He sensed something was wrong, but couldn't put the pieces together. She had said they proved themselves. They were safe now. Weren't they?

"However, last night two of you proved me wrong by attempting escape." Her eyes were emotionless. Deadly. "Their bodies were found frozen by the harbor this morning and thrown into the sea."

There was a barren silence. Zuko hadn't heard about this. He wondered who had tried to get away. Had he known them? Slept next to them on the ship? Shared a meal? A small hand suddenly gripped Zuko's and he felt a surge of sympathy for Roz. He was too young to face all of this, too innocent.

"Unfortunately," she continued, "the capital cannot hold all of you. Therefore, you will participate in a second phase. This is a test of strength and persistence, and only the strongest and most persistent of you will survive." She waved a hand towards the ocean and pointed to a spot in the distance. "You must swim to that iceberg and back. The last 50 of you will die." She said this with such perfected calm that Zuko did not feel any panic at first. In fact, everyone was silent as the moment between night and the break of dawn. There was complete stillness. And then:

"What?"

"You can't do this to us!"

"Murderer!"

The clamor rose to the point where Roz covered his ears and looked up at Zuko, who put a hand on his shoulder. He was far too bony. The bread and broth they'd been given to eat last night was nowhere near enough to replenish their energy, and Zuko found himself wishing he had given his portion to Roz. How could the kid possibly make it all the way to the iceberg and back? He was nothing but skin and bones, half-starved to death. A little voice in the back of his mind wondered how he himself could make it to the iceberg and back, but he couldn't think about that right now. There was no room for failure.

Someone forced his way past Zuko and shoved Roz into him. He recognized the man; he had shared his tent the night before; the one with the putrid feet. The man flung himself at the Princess and almost seemed like he would get a hold of her before a guard knocked him down with the handle of his sword. He collapsed on the ground and looked up, sobbing, at the Princess, who stood over him.

"Kill me now," he begged. "Just kill me now! I won't make it there and back alive, please!" Zuko shrunk back at the man's pathetic display, but felt sympathy. He must truly be desperate if he is asking to be murdered at the hand of the Princess of the Water Empire. Zuko would drown or take his own life a thousand times before he let the girl lay a hand on him.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, this is IT for the next two weeks. Until then, enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Avatar: The Last Airbender characters because they belong to bryke and nickeolodeoeanmnop.

 

            “How pitiful,” Katara heard her brother mutter. Truly, this man before her was a sad sight to see, but she understood the gravity of his plea. The people of the Earth Kingdom were strong, unbreakable like the element they bent. They were resilient and resourceful; steadfast. For this man to beg for death seemed a pathetic display of weakness, but in truth took strength. There was no desperation in his eyes, but determination. If he went in that water, he—like so many others—would suffer and only find respite in death. But if she killed him now she could make it quick. Relatively painless. Perhaps dishonorable, but easier.

            “Send him back to the pack, Sister.” Sokka’s breath was hot and rancid in her ear. “He can die like the rest of these rats.”

            Katara lifted her chin, the only visible sign that she been taken back by his suggestion. He was probably right. This was expected of her. Still, it was her decision to make. Perhaps it would look like murder to the people in front of her. Perhaps they would despise her for it. But she was actually granting him mercy.

            She raised her arm and the water followed obediently, thinning itself into a narrow stream in front of her hand. The man’s tears stopped at once. His pleading ceased and his face softened into a disarming calm. She heard the crowd shift forward, waiting for her next move. She saw them watching every minute twitch of her body through the blurred screen of water. Her body tensed, preparing for its next action.

            She went to deliver the killing blow—

            And her move was arrested by a firm grip on her forearm. The water, only moments ago thrumming with anticipation, fell to the ground. She looked behind her.

            Disregarding her decision, Sokka had stopped her. He looked at her with shaded eyes. “I know what you’re thinking, sister dear. But you will not show weakness. Not now.”

            Katara narrowed her eyes at him. Mercy was hardly weakness, but that was not something he could understand. After all, he took after their father.  

            She ripped her arm from his grip, but did not recall her water. It took a few moments to compose herself, and then she looked down at the man. He stared at the two of them, confused. Then, as he realized what was happening, she could see the change in his eyes. Confusion to understanding to panic.

            “No, no please! Do it, I beg of you!” His tone became more despairing and he lurched forward to grovel at her feet. Her guards moved to extract him, but she put up a hand to stop them. No, this man would not be made to suffer the same fate as his comrades. Sokka was watching her. He would report any sign of mercy— _weakness_ , he would say _—_ to their father. He would manipulate it and use it against her somehow. No, she had to make an example of this man.

            And even though her heart resisted, and her throat seemed to close against the words, she beckoned her guards. “Take him to the Pit.”

            The man became terror.

            “NO! No, please, please, don’t! Anything but that,  _please!_ ” Obviously rumors of the Pit had been circulating through the refugee camp. He would join the others who had been deemed unfit for the Empire in the Pit, where he would live out the rest of his days in isolation. It was bleak. Even drowning in the ice water of the South would have been better than the fate that awaited him.

The man continued to beg as he scrambled away from the guards only to be caught and dragged by his ankles. Some of the other refugees turned away from the scene, and Katara wished she could too. It was frightening to think she could instill that much pain and horror in another person.

            Sokka chuckled darkly. “Very good.”

            Her hands tightened into fists to keep from slapping him. She had to get a handle on her emotions. She had to forget about what just happened. She had to keep moving forward. She replaced her mask.

            “Line up,” Katara called out, but there was a lifelessness to her voice that hadn’t been there before. Everyone followed her order without comment or hesitation, obviously afraid. She had just confirmed their suspicions: That she had no heart.

 

            She moved to the end of the line the refugees had formed and faced them; the old, the young, the girls and boys no older than herself. How easily she could have been one of them. Circumstance and luck had treated her well. Only when she registered the fists still balled up at her hips did she wonder if luck had anything to do with it.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm baaaack! And I have new chapters for you! I'd like to thank everyone for leaving comments and kudo-ing/bookmarking my story. I appreciate any and all feedback. I know you guys are probably ready to roast me alive for going so slowly, but just be patient. You won't regret it ;)
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own A:tLA or any of its characters; it belongs to Bryke and Nickelodeon. I do own my own characters, though, so there :p

 

Zuko stayed two steps behind Roz the entire walk to the edge of the water. The iceberg the Princess had pointed out was only about 50 yards away. Perhaps they _could_ survive this.

            Roz looked up at Zuko as they stood at the water’s edge. It lapped hungrily at them and Zuko put his toe in. It was absolutely freezing. He suddenly realized that half the battle would be avoiding hypothermia. He took Roz’s hand and squeezed. They’d do it together.

            Once again, the Princess took her place at the side of the line and gave the command, and the prisoners began diving into the water, some more gracefully than others. Roz jumped first, pulling Zuko behind him.

He was pricked by a million frigid needles all over his body at once. The cold clawed at his lungs and wrapped around his legs, and he blew out with fiery breath. The water around him grew a degree warmer, but nowhere near comfortable. When he resurfaced he saw that Roz was already a bit ahead of him, flailing his limbs in a way that made it clear he had not swum much before. Zuko caught up with him quickly and showed him how to kick and pull the water back to propel himself forward. Soon the boy was keeping pace with Zuko, who had been an avid swimmer in his youth. People all around, especially Earth Kingdom prisoners, were sinking like stones, and Fire Nation citizens were crying out at the cold. Zuko was shocked that Roz hadn’t complained yet. But when Zuko looked over, he saw the boy’s pale white face and blue-tinted lips. He wasn’t a firebender. He couldn’t warm himself. He wouldn’t last.

            Sure enough when they reached the iceberg and turned for the final leg, Roz fell behind. Twice Zuko had to pull him out from under the water before he choked on it. But the kid kept fighting, and when the edge of the ice came into view, Zuko shouted over to him, “We’re almost there!” and pushed that much harder.

            They were at the front of the line, too. He didn’t dare look back to see who had fallen behind. He could hear them screaming for help, and he saw the Water Empire soldiers standing at the water’s edge, arms folded, doing nothing to save them. He threw his anger into every kick, every extension of his arm. He _would_ make it.

“Zuko, he—“ Roz’s voice was cut off by a gurgle of water, and Zuko froze mid-stroke. Roz had sunk beneath the surface.

Without hesitation, Zuko dove for him. It was dark, and the saltwater stung his eyes, but he saw the boy sinking and grabbed him under the shoulders. Instinctively, he kicked down and fire erupted from his feet, pushing the both of them towards the surface. He hoped Roz wouldn’t notice the sudden rush of warmth, but it wasn’t a priority at the moment. When they broke through Roz began coughing violently, and Zuko saw water trickle out from his mouth.

            “Hey, buddy, hold onto me, okay?” Zuko said while throwing the boy on his back. Roz clasped his hands around Zuko’s neck and even though he was basically being choked, Zuko began to swim towards shore. Others had caught up and overtaken them, but they were still towards the front of the group. Zuko could feel Roz’s soft, labored breaths against his neck, and the anger he’d felt before was replaced with a desperation to get him to dry land.

            By the time they reached the edge of the ice Zuko’s arms were ready to give out, and he could barely pull himself up, let alone the both of them. None of the soldiers moved to help, though, so he mustered what little strength he had left and tossed Roz over the edge, then dragged himself up. He collapsed on the ice, chest heaving, every breath feeling like a stab in the lungs. The air felt even colder than the water.

            “Z-Zuko?” Roz stuttered, shivering at Zuko’s side.

            “Hey, buddy,” he breathed out. “You doing okay?” The boy nodded. His lips were still blue and the veins on his neck were visible, but his cheeks were ruddy. Zuko imagined he must look like a mess. He could feel his hair sticking to his forehead and temples, and his shirt clung to his skin. He hadn’t even thought about taking it off before jumping in the water, although it might have made it a little easier to swim.

            Two guards approached and pulled them to their feet. They were marched over to a group of shivering men and women who were eyeing the guards with cautious relief. The survivors. They weren’t part of the last 50.

Those who weren’t so fortunate were being dragged from the water and collected into a pile of shuddering bodies. They would be taken into the city to who-knows-where and who-knows-what. Some of them were asking the soldiers to kill them, like the man earlier. But these were empty pleas. Pointless. Zuko wondered how many had drowned in the water, and if that fate was preferential to whatever these people would face.

            The Princess stood in front of Zuko and Roz and the rest of them with a solemn expression that he could only believe was fake. She had no emotions. She could not feel pity or remorse. Only hatred and cruelty.

            “You are the last surviving 100.” There was a ripple of pleased exclamations. But Zuko held his breath. She was not finished. “However, I just received word from the Emperor that we cannot house that many refugees within capital walls. Not even in the prisons.” She didn’t need to finish. They all knew what that meant. More would die.

            “Then send us home!” someone shouted, and her eyes cut to whoever it was. Others agreed. Some asked her to send them to another Water Empire colony. Anything. Even Roz joined in. Zuko remained silent. There would be no way out of this. No feat of strength or persistence could spare him now. If it was his time, it was his time.

            “I am afraid that is not possible,” the Princess said. And then, with a flick of her wrist, the soldiers encroached upon the remaining prisoners. They plucked half of the crowd, tearing them out of each other’s arms, throwing them to the side like sacks of grain where they were picked up by more guards. They, along with the 50 who did not make it, were herded away from the survivors.

Zuko wasn’t able to save the old man yesterday, but he would fight to the death to keep Roz out of harm’s way. As the soldiers came closer, he shoved Roz behind him, facing the soldiers head on.

            “Take me!” Zuko said as one went to grab the boy. “Take me instead.”

            Roz protested, but the soldier wrenched Zuko from Roz’s grip. He tossed him outside the circle of people and Zuko fell to the ground, hard. Groaning, he pushed himself up to see the remaining group, Roz included, being led away. Even though he knew he had just sentenced himself to death, Zuko couldn’t help feeling the slightest relief. Roz would live.

            “Wait!” a voice commanded, and the chaos paused. “Leave him,” the Prince said, pointing at Roz. Then he looked down at Zuko. “Take this one.”

Zuko began to shout as two soldiers pulled him to his feet and dragged him, kicking and crying out, to the other group. Another soldier carried Roz over his shoulder so that he was watching Zuko as they passed, going in opposite directions.

            “NO!” Zuko roared, trying to pull free from the soldiers who held him, but they had bound his hands. He could burn through the rope, but that would give him away. But what did it matter? This was wrong and he knew it. He was about break free when he met Roz’s gaze. The boy simply looked at him and shook his head, and Zuko froze. Did he know?

            “Don’t do it!” Roz called out to him. “I’ll be fine!” He gave Zuko a small half-grin, and Zuko noticed for the first time that he was missing one of his front teeth.

            _You won’t be fine_ , Zuko wanted to tell him. _They might kill you, and they won’t think twice about it._ He wanted to fight back. He wanted to break free and go home. He wanted to grab Roz and get out of there, the mission be damned. But as soon as he began to struggle he saw the guard unsheathe his sword and then it was too late. The last thing Zuko remembered was the look of shock in Roz’s eyes as the hilt of the sword came down on his head.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, thanks so much for reading this story! If you like it, please share with friends/Zutara/A:tLA enthusiasts. I write for myself, but I also write so all of you can enjoy it!
> 
> Disclaimer: AS always, I own practically nothing, because Bryke and Nickelodeon hoard it all.

 

“All the survivors are secure in the palace prison and rations have been sent down,” Katara finished and took a long, much-needed breath. She, her brother and father were seated in the royal dining room, finishing dinner. The Emperor had requested a full report and Katara had provided, with Sokka supplementing information every once in a while that she had forgotten…or purposefully left out.

            “Very good,” the Emperor said, wiping his mouth with a cloth napkin. The dinner had been extravagant with four courses, and Katara felt a twinge of guilt as the servants gathered plates of untouched food to be incinerated. The refugees had only gotten meat and cheese to eat while she feasted and wasted perfectly good food. Sokka leaned back in his chair and burped loudly, clutching his rotund stomach. Katara waved a hand in front of her nose to dissipate the stench. Her brother had been all too eager to provide every gruesome detail of the day’s happenings, including how one refugee had cried for mercy, and how others had drowned, screaming in the ocean.

He was sadistic through and through, but adept at hiding it beneath inappropriate puns and bad jokes.

“Father, did you hear the one about the penguin who couldn’t dance?” he asked, as if on cue. “It was because he had two _webbed_ feet!” Sokka began laughing hysterically while his father chuckled softly, although it seemed to Katara like he was humoring him. For a 16-year old prince, her brother had no regard for propriety. But he was clever. Even now she noticed his dagger lying inconspicuously beside his dinner plate. His boomerang was strapped over his chair, and she was certain he had other weapons concealed within his clothing. He was a warrior, prepared for any possible turn-of-events.

She would never let him know how much she feared him.

            “Daughter,” her father said, interrupting her thoughts, “would you like to spar tonight?”

            _That is the_ last _thing I want to do_ , Katara thought. Honestly, the day had exhausted her. She was not sure if she could stand a beating from her father, but he was looking at her in such a way that made it clear he expected her to decline. Then he would turn to Sokka for a sword match and the two of them would laugh at how weak she was. She couldn’t allow that.

            “Actually,” a voice suddenly cut across the room. “Katara will be with me this evening.” All three at the table turned to see Empress Kya walk through the doors and approach the table, taking a seat at the opposite side.

            “Nice of you to join us for supper,” the Emperor muttered with murder in his eyes. Katara saw Sokka slump back in his seat and felt a momentary sting of sympathy. Only months ago his mother had died of pneumonia after she fell into the channel. Even though she was only the Royal Mistress, she’d had a full royal funeral. Her passing had hurt Sokka. He hadn’t been the same since, especially around Katara’s mother. He didn’t try to hide his disdain.

Kya simply nodded at Emperor Hakoda. She did not move to get anything that was left on the table, indicating that she had no intention of eating with them. She matched her husband’s glare and Katara leaned away from the palpable tension between them.

            “My dear wife, I do think Katara’s time would be better spent with me. Training,” Emperor Hakoda said. Kya folded her hands on the table.

            “She has spent the last few evenings doing just that. Tonight, she will be practicing her healing. With me.” The tone of her voice left no room for argument. Hakoda’s nose scrunched and his hand twitched, as if he wanted to attack his wife, but he restrained himself by throwing back his chair and stomping from the room. Sokka followed behind him, a mirror image of his father, but spun around at the door to stick his tongue out at the women. Katara rolled her eyes.

            “Thank you, mother,” she said, and reached over to place a hand upon Kya’s arm. Her mother’s eyes softened as she looked at her.

            “No need to thank me. You need keep up your healing. You can fight all you want, but if you get hurt, it will not matter how many hours you’ve spent perfecting your ice dagger. Healing is the essential counterpart to fighting, no matter what your father thinks.”

            Kya and Katara went from the dining room to a small training space on the second level. The room was no larger than Katara’s bed chambers and had a trough of water running along the entire perimeter. Katara and Kya took their places on mats in the center of the room where a pair of wooden human replicas were lying and began their routine.

In identical movements, they called forth water from the trough and placed both of their hands on the feet of the human dummies. The water around their hands began to glow a brilliant blue, and they pulled the healing water up through the wooden bodies, to the knees, pelvis, stomach, chest, neck, and head, and back down again. They were usually silent when they performed the routine, but Katara had been longing to speak to her mother about the refugees ever since she’d found out from the General that they were being transported. And since her mother was often absent for days at a time, she hadn’t had a chance to talk to her about it yet.

            “Mother?” she asked as her hands brushed over the dummy’s torso.

            “Yes?”

            “If you had the chance to save a number of lives, at the expense of a significant number more, would you do it?”

            Kya was silent. Like Katara’s father, her mother was not one to act or speak impulsively. Unlike Emperor Hakoda, Kya was steadfast in her beliefs once she formed them. Which is why, when she answered, Katara was not surprised.

            “Absolutely. To protect even one life is our responsibility as humans, no matter how important or insignificant we believe that life may be.” She said this softly as she expertly maneuvered a complicated pattern on the chest of her dummy. Katara watched for a moment, mesmerized as she extracted the water from the channels of the body and rotated it mid-air, spinning it faster and faster until, finally, it evaporated into the air. Then she pulled some fresh water from the trough to their right and began the process again before Katara had even finished it once. She truly was out of practice.

Instead of asking more she put her focus into completing her routine. The push and tug of the water in her hands felt rough and difficult to control, but it was familiar. Soon, after a few cycles of fresh water, she completed the first routine and moved into the next, finally falling into a comfortable rhythm.

Her mother had known what Katara meant. She understood the tremendous pressure that was on her shoulders. The Empress was a good person, always considerate of others and of the connection between the human world and the spirits. She was balanced and at peace. Katara liked to think maybe she was more like her mother than her father. But unfortunately, with the duties she had been born into, she had to at least pretend it was the other way around.

 


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, thank you for reading and reviewing this story! I really appreciate it, and I also appreciate your patience as I know I haven't been posting regularly. Hopefully I will get back on track. I have PLENTY of content, so please stay with the story! As always, thank you to my beta SpookyKangaroo (KataraFireLady on tumblr), and you guys should totally check out her stuff on here, especially this Zutara dance story http://archiveofourown.org/works/4383164/chapters/9949574
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing except for my own characters, everything else belongs to Bryke and Nickelodeon.

When Zuko came to, the first thing he noticed was the dampness of the air hanging around him. It was suffocating. He felt the moisture on every inch of his body, pressing down on him like a physical weight. And it was cold, too. Like jumping into the sea again.

_Roz._ The boy’s name hit Zuko like a wave, suddenly engulfing him. He doubled over, biting his lip, determined not to cry out. He had only known him for a short time, but he felt something for the boy. Protective of him. Roz shouldn’t have stopped him. He should have saved him and gotten away somehow, despite the odds. Blast the mission.

            Zuko’s head fell into his hands. Now he had another reason to complete the mission. He was avenging two people he cared about. And he _would_ _not_ fail.

He took deep breaths, inhaling the grimy prison air, until he could breathe normally again. Finally, when he had control over his emotions, he looked at his surroundings. The prison was not made of ice, like he and his father had foolishly imagined. That would’ve been easy enough to break out of when the time arrived. No, he was cornered by three stone walls, a ceiling of rock and what looked like a steel gate. The floor was dirt-covered stone. There was no one else in his cell, but two people were curled up in a cell across from him. He recognized one of them sleeping on the ground; a man who had been in his tent the night before—or had it been longer? He couldn’t remember anything after seeing Roz’s face and feeling the hilt of the guard’s sword come down on him.

            “Hey,” he whispered, crawling to hang on the steel bars. “ _Hey_.” The other man in the cell across the hall—the one he didn’t recognize—pushed himself up to his elbows and wiped a hand over his groggy eyes.

            “What do you want?” he hissed back. 

            “Where are we? How long have we been here?”

            “We’re in prison,” the man said unhelpfully, and flopped back down to the floor.

            “I know _that_.” Zuko rolled his eyes and pulled himself to his knees. “Please. I don’t know what’s happened to us.”

            With a groan the man sat up and scooted over to the gate. He leaned a shoulder against it and looked at Zuko with a tiredness that was disheartening.

            “That’s right,” he started, “I forgot you were unconscious. That’s why you got out of all of it.”

            Zuko’s eyebrows furrowed. “What are you talking about?”

            The man’s expression turned dark. “The torture. The pain. She told us they were gonna break us. Break our spirits.” He scoffed. “I didn’t believe ‘em at first. None of us did. But then that boy came—the _Prince_ —” he spit out the word, “—and we learned. Yeah, we did.”

            Zuko stared at him, speechless. He hadn’t known what the Princess planned on doing with the prisoners once the trials were over, once she’d found the best of them. But torture? What good could come of it? He was filled with a venom that stirred his blood and fanned the fire in his veins, and all he wanted was to get his hands around her neck, to make her pay for every life she’d taken. And her brother, the Prince, would get his too. They all would pay.

            “See these marks?” The man interrupted Zuko’s thoughts when he turned around and pulled the back of his shirt up over his head. All across his back were long, red welts, some bright and others dark with dried blood. Zuko flinched.

“Those are two days old. Karu over there got it worse,” the man pointed a thumb at Zuko’s tent-mate lying in the corner, twitching with ragged breaths. “All the Fire Nation citizens did. Us Earth Kingdom people got a little break, but still a lot of us didn’t make it past the first day. Being so weak already…” he trailed off, his eyes beginning to glaze over. No doubt he was seeing all the lost lives, the corpses of the dead and the innocent.

Although he hadn’t been there, somehow Zuko could see them too.

            “How long has it been?” he choked out.

            “Five days,” the man replied.

            Zuko hit the floor with his fist, sending a blazing shot of pain up his arm, but he didn’t care. How could he have been so weak? He should have been out there with these people, his fellow prisoners, getting the same punishment, trying to help them. Instead they’d let him stay here, sleeping. Even though he knew he couldn’t have helped it, the guilt threatened to swallow him up. He felt dirty.

            “I’m so sorry,” he said, but it sounded more like a threat than a condolence. The man wasn’t fazed.

            “Not your fault. They tried to wake you, but you were out cold. I heard the guard who knocked you out got a right whippin’. Nothing you could’a done about it.”

            _But there was!_ he wanted to scream at him. This was exactly why he’d come here in the first place—to save innocent people from the cruelties of the Water Empire! To make it worse, he’d been right there while they were hurting people, and he’d been asleep. It had been happening right under his nose and he was powerless to do anything about it.

_Not anymore_ , he promised himself. _Not anymore._

Zuko gripped the bars ferociously, as if he could tear them apart with sheer willpower. “What do they plan to do to us?”

            The man shrugged. “I guess once they think we’ll serve the Empire willingly they’ll put us to work. On the fishing boats, in the capital, in the palace—“

            “The palace?” Zuko blurted out. That was it! If he could just get into the palace, he could—

            The man erupted in laughter. “Good luck, kid! Sure, we’d all like to live out the remainder of our lives in the lap of luxury, but I doubt many will get to work in the palace. Maybe a handful, and they’ll probably be women and children.” The man laughed again, throwing his head back, and Zuko just watched him coldly until he calmed down. “But really, kid.” The man shifted so his head was resting against the wall. His eyes slid shut. “Good luck. I hope you get what you want. If you manage to make it out alive.”


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy! These are the last two chapters for this week, so I'll see you all next week. As always, please bookmark/leave a kudo/comment. I love reading your comments and even your criticism. And I'll answer any questions as long as it doesn't give anything away ;)
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own anything except my characters ect. Bryke & Nickelodeon (I feel like I need a ship name for them, it would make this a lot easier to type out)

“Rise and shine, rebels!” Sokka yelled as soon as he opened the prison door, eliciting a chorus of groans and crass comments from the refugees. Katara was following at the back of the line of guards behind Sokka, following him into the prison. She kept her eyes down as they made their way down the hall, past the rows of cells that held the refugees. _This is not my responsibility_ , she told herself as one of them threw himself against the cell door, rattling the metal bars and barking something unintelligible at her. A guard immediately threw her behind him and starting beating the man. She looked away and went to her brother.

            “Look who’s finally awake,” he was saying, looking down at one of the refugees. Katara didn’t realize who it was until she was right beside Sokka. It was the Fire Nation boy who’d been hurt by the soldiers after the second trial. When he wouldn’t wake up, Sokka had wanted to throw him into the prisonat the edge of the county, with all the other refugees who awaited execution. But Katara convinced him to let the boy sleep it off. He had proven himself in the trials, and she wanted to see if he could be useful to the Empire.

            Now he was sitting up on the floor of his cell, legs bent, glaring up at the two of them with rage in his eyes. Katara backed away.

            “Did you enjoy your nap?” Sokka goaded, bending down so that he was eye-level with the boy, close enough that one of them could reach out and grab the other if they dared. Katara hoped they wouldn’t. Luckily, the boy stayed silent, albeit defiant. After a few moments, Sokka straightened and turned his back on the both of them. Katara, with one glance back at the golden-eyed boy, followed her brother to the end of the room. The guards were walking behind them, unlocking the prison cells and herding the refugees out another door.

            “Will you be staying with us today, sister?” Sokka asked, clasping his hands behind his back. Katara watched the line of people leaving the room. It emptied quickly and soon they were the only two left.

She nodded. “But only for a little while. Father needs my help with the Audiences today.”

One of the responsibilities of the Emperor was to have monthly Audiences with the citizens of the capital to hear their grievances and requests. As heir to the throne, Katara was required to attend these meetings. However, her father was adamant that she oversee the Audiences herself, since she would have to do them alone one day. She had a feeling that he simply was bored of listening to his people complain, but Katara didn’t really mind. This was one aspect of ruling the Empire that she wasn’t dreading.

            Sokka smiled. “Then I’ll make sure not to save the best for last.” With that he walked out the door to join the guards and refugees and Katara followed obediently. Even though his words made her cringe, she was in no position to argue or object. Her father had placed Sokka in control of the refugee reformation after he had whined about being bored, and griped that Katara got to do all the fun stuff. She certainly didn’t consider condemning nearly 200 innocent people to death “fun”, but she wasn’t about to argue. She could hardly sleep as it was with all the guilt infesting her every thought and dream. Perhaps if she didn’t have to torture these people further, her conscience would finally let her get some sleep.

            Sokka led Katara down a narrow passageway made of stone until they reached a heavy-looking wooden door. Sokka knocked and it swung open from the inside. He gestured for Katara to enter, and she did.

            She could have screamed.

            When she had told her father to break the remaining refugees, she had not meant it literally. But the scene before her told a different story.

            All around the massive stone chamber were various torture devices. Men, women and children were strapped to tables, hanging from wooden poles, or being thrown to the ground by guards with bulging muscles. But it was eerily quiet. Apart from the occasional thud of a falling body or pained groan, the room was silent. She looked to Sokka.

He smiled again. “These walls aren’t soundproof. We don’t want any curious citizens to come asking questions about the screaming. We told them to stay quiet or be thrown in the ocean.” Katara blanched. She knew her brother was malicious, but to make these people suffer in silent agony? That was just cruel.

A quiet shriek disrupted the emptiness and Katara turned to her right to see a child cowering in the corner, shielding her face from a guard wielding a spiked club.

            “Stop!” Katara shouted, and, acting on instinct, shot a water whip at the back of his neck. It hit him with a wet _thwack_ and he froze, the club in mid-air. The water retracted into Katara’s water skins. Slowly, the guard turned around, and when he saw them his face, previously contorted with madness, became confused.

            “Your Highnesses, I was simply doing as instructed.”

            Sokka shoved Katara out of the way. “Of course, sir. And you’re doing a marvelous job. Please, continue,” Sokka said cordially.

            “No!” Katara protested, and forced her way in between the guard and the girl. Up close she could see the tattered rags of the girl’s Earth Kingdom clothing and the purple bruises on her cheekbones. Her lip was split in the middle and all of her knuckles were bloody. “This girl has been adequately punished. Leave her to me.” Both men looked at Katara incredulously, but then the guard bowed his head and stepped away, lowering his club.

            “Sister, please,” Sokka half-laughed but gave her a murderous glare. _You’re making a fool of me!_ She knew what he was thinking. She knew she was making a scene and undermining her brother’s authority. But she didn’t care. What good was being the future Empress if she couldn’t exercise her power every once in a while?

            Even though Sokka was taller than her, the look she gave him made him shrink.

“That is an order.” Katara reached behind her and grabbed the girl’s hand. When she pulled her to her feet she didn’t reach Katara’s shoulders. She called a guard over and told him to bring the girl to her chambers and instruct her lady’s maid to clean her up and dress her in servant’s clothes.

            “She will live in the palace with me,” she told Sokka, but looked at the girl who stared back at her with wide, watery green eyes.

 


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! So I'm switching things up a bit. I have a LOT of content and feel like I'm releasing it too slowly, so I'll be posting the equivalent of 2 chapters in each post from now on. I hope you like it! (And hopefully it'll get us to the exciting stuff faster :)
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own A:tLA of its characters, just my own.

 

            A shiver ripped through Zuko’s body and he ran his hands up and down his arms, trying to warm the exposed skin there. Since he was safely hidden in this ice cooler, he stoked his inner fire and let it course through him, heating him from the inside out. When they let him out he would have to pretend to be cold, but there was no reason for him to suffer. He was glad Uncle Iroh had taught him how to maintain a fire within his body.

            “Your outer strength comes from within,” Iroh had told him back when he still trained with the old master. Azula had finished her training with Uncle and had moved onto another master who had fought in the war, but she had been with them that day.

            “That makes no sense,” she said, thrusting her palm and blasting a torpedo of blue flame at a nearby tree, almost incinerating it. A couple branches caught on fire and it quickly began spreading. Zuko shook his head.

            “Sure it does, Azula. Look.” Zuko put his fists together and took a deep breath. He held it for a moment, then let it out slowly, controlling the air flow from his nose. He did this a few more times and when he looked up, the flames on the tree had died out. Now it was only smoking, the wisps being blown away by the warm breeze, and he looked at Azula with a smug grin.

            “Whatever.” She rolled her eyes. “I’m still better than you!”

Zuko stuck his tongue out at her, but she had already turned away to go sit on the stone steps that led up to the palace.

            “Very good nephew!” Uncle Iroh exclaimed, ignoring the childish exchange, and clapped a hand on Zuko’s back. “You have a healthy fire inside of you.”

            “What about me?” Azula called from the steps. A glum frown pulled on her face and Zuko briefly pitied her. Then he remembered that she was better than him at basically everything else and didn’t pity her anymore. “What’s wrong with my fire?” She got up and walked back over to them, hands on her hips.

            “Well, Azula,” Iroh started, looking uncomfortable, “perhaps you are not balanced inside, and so your fire outside cannot balance either.”

            She pursed her lips. “Is that why my fire is blue?”

            At this age no one had told Azula that her blue fire was a result of her prestigious bending ability, because no one had wanted Zuko to feel pressured or deficient. Soon she would be told, and after that she would take her bending much more seriously. Her skills would improve exponentially.

But for now, Iroh only said, “My dear, all fire, blue or orange or pink, burns just as brightly in the dark. But an unbalanced fire will quickly go out, and you wouldn’t want to be caught in the dark without it, would you?” Both of them shook their head no, and Iroh got back to the lesson.

It didn’t hurt Zuko to think about Azula anymore. It just made him stronger. More determined.

            He was about to let another wave of heat loose when the lock of the door began to turn. He quickly bent over, trying to look as cold and pathetic as he could, and the door opened to reveal a guard with sinewy muscles and a mean grimace standing before him.

            “Time’s up fire brat,” he grumbled and jerked Zuko to his feet. He was dragged across the room and deposited on a floor mat in front of another guard with a mustache and heavy eyebrows. A scar ran across his cheek and he smiled treacherously when Zuko sat up. He barely had any teeth in his mouth and those that remained were rotted or yellow.

            “Fresh meat,” the man growled. He got up and grabbed a wooden pole leaning on the wall. He twirled it a few times, surprisingly adept with it, before swinging it down at Zuko, who narrowly avoided it by rolling over.

            “What are you doing?” Zuko exclaimed, jumping to his feet and ducking, feeling the breeze of the rod whizzing over his head.

            “My job.” The man jabbed the rod at Zuko’s chest and swung it around again. Zuko dodged and looked around for something—anything—to fight back with. But if he tried to take any weapons surely the guards would all jump him. The man attacked and Zuko leaned forward into a somersault. When he looked quizzically at Zuko, he realized he was acting far too lively for someone who just spent an hour in a freezer. He had two choices: He could keep fighting and probably blow his cover, be sent to the other prison or maybe not even make it that far alive, or pretend be weak and be beaten to a pulp. Either way was going to end in pain.

So when the guard brought around the rod, Zuko didn’t move. It connected with his shoulder and Zuko was flung to the side. He landed on the mat with an unsettling shock of pain that echoed throughout his frame, and curled up into a ball as the guard swung the rod like a club into his ribs. The other prisoners had warned him not to cry out or scream, but it was easier said than done. As the rod hit his back he bit his lip so hard his teeth broke through the skin.

Soon he couldn’t take it anymore and he tried to crawl away, only to have the man step on his ankle and drag him back. He barely managed to keep in the scream that was bubbling up in his throat. The rod came down on his side again and knocked the wind out of him, making him cough. He felt the familiar surge of heat in the pit of his stomach, an automatic response to the feeling of helplessness, letting him know his element was there if he needed it. But he repressed the urge to lash out against the guard. He wouldn’t be able to help anyone if they knew he was a firebender. If they found out, he definitely wouldn’t make it to tomorrow. Now, he had a slim chance of surviving that long, and he was going to give it everything he had.

            Two hours later, after finishing his ‘spar’ with the guard and being strung up on a pole where he was whipped with water, the guards dragged him, and the rest of the prisoners, back to their cells. Zuko almost blacked out the minute he was thrown on the ground, but he managed to stay awake long enough to hear the two men across the hall talking.

            “They sure made up for the last few days you’ve missed, kid,” the man Zuko had talked to earlier said. Zuko stirred and painfully lifted his head from the ground.

            “Yeah,” the other one who had tented with Zuko commented, “you got it bad. You’d probably be better off giving up and letting them drag you to the other prison. At least they’re not being tortured, like us.”

            “It’s like they have something personal against you,” the first one said.

            Zuko eyed the man’s green Earth Kingdom clothing. _I wonder what,_ he thought sardonically. Even if he did give up, they’d never let him, a Fire Nation citizen, go with the other prisoners. He’d be dead long before.

            They must have misunderstood his silence, because one of them, he couldn’t tell which, said, “Don’t take it too personally. They hate all of us.”

            “Just be grateful they didn’t bring you to the Black Room.”

            Zuko raised himself to his elbows. “What’s that?”

            Both men looked down, their silence more telling that their words. Zuko frowned. He’d been through Hell today. What could possibly be so bad about the Black Room?

            Finally, the first man spoke, and Zuko vaguely noticed there was a cut across his chest that hadn’t been there the day before. “You know how some waterbenders can bloodbend? It’s a rare ability, but a revered and powerful one.”

Zuko nodded.

He continued in a whisper, his eyes dark. “Well, they have to practice somewhere. Somewhere the rest of us can’t hear the screams.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Katara wasn’t sure what to expect when she opened the door to her chambers. She’d made an official order to send the girl to her lady’s maid to get cleaned up, but what if her brother, or her father, had intercepted them? What if they’d taken the girl back down to the prison or worse: sent her away to the Pit to die?

Her hand hesitated on the knob of the door. There was a part of her that didn’t even want to see what awaited her behind the door. She took a breath to steel herself and opened it.

The girl sitting on her bed was almost unrecognizable. Her long dark hair, which had been tangled and matted, was piled neatly on top of her head in a servant’s bun. She was dressed in a clean uniform and her face had been scrubbed free of dirt, although the bruises on her cheekbones and beneath her eyes were more noticeable now.

When Katara entered the room the girl jumped off the bed and faced her, eyes unfocused and wild.

“Hello,” Katara said softly. The girl did not reply. Katara shut the door behind her, hoping she might feel more comfortable with some privacy. Her hands were fisted at her side and her lips were tightly shut, making her chin jut out. Even though she was trying to look tough, or maybe proud, Katara could see she was afraid.

“How are you feeling?” she asked. Again, the girl said nothing. Katara took a few more steps until she was right in front of the girl. But she did not look at Katara’s face. Rather, she was staring at her chest. Katara glanced down, making sure she didn’t have any food on her dress. “What are you looking at?”

“Nothing,” the girl said, finally. Her voice was high and pretty, but definitely defiant. Katara bent to look into her eyes, and only when she got close enough did she recognize the glazed over look of them, the way that they stared straight ahead into nothing. She was blind. Just to make sure, Katara waved hand in front of the girl’s face. As she guessed, the girl did not react. But then she said, “I’m blind, not stupid,” and Katara blushed. She spun around, too embarrassed to face the girl even though she couldn’t see her, and even though she knew she had no reason to be. She _should be embarrassed for talking so improperly to_ me! Katara thought.

Once the feeling of idiocy subsided, Katara studied her. She was quite different from the cowering little girl in the torture room. _This_ girl radiated strength, resilience, something unbreakable. Even though she was obviously young, _this_ girl was not fragile.

“I apologize,” Katara said, and sat down on her bed. She patted it, gesturing for the girl to sit next to her, and blushed again when she remembered she couldn’t see. “Please, sit.”

After a moment’s hesitation the girl sat, although she was not relaxed. Her back was straight as a plank of wood and every muscle seemed coiled like a spring, ready to jump. Katara decided she had to be careful with her.

“What is your name?” she asked, looking at her even though the girl stared straight ahead at Katara’s desk.

“My name is Toph.”

“That’s a beautiful name.”

Nothing. _Alright then._ Katara made a mental note to avoid flattery and leaned back, considering her. She had a slight yet sturdy build. Her hands were small but calloused as if she worked in fields or a farm. The maid had given her a bath but there was still dirt under her fingernails and ingrained into the swirls of her skin. Her eyes, wide and green, were framed by a slender face and a delicate nose. Most of her hair had been tied back into a servant’s bun, but a few strands had fallen into her eyes. Her lips seemed to be in a permanent pout. She couldn’t be more than 13 or 14.

“You’re from the Earth Kingdom.”

“And you’re observant. Earth Kingdom people wear green. Did you learn that from your Daddy?” she said, and even though her expression remained defiant, her face turned red. Katara smirked.

“You know I could have you executed for saying that.”

Toph swallowed but she didn’t say anything. Her hands curled around her knees, though, and Katara wondered if she was restraining herself from saying—or doing—something she might regret. She wondered what the girl was actually capable of.

“But I won’t, because you serve me now.” Katara put on her authoritative voice. “Do you understand that? I saved you from that prison so that you can help me here in the palace. I expect you to be grateful for that and serve me accordingly. Do we have a deal?”

Katara put her hand out to shake. She started to pull away when she remembered stupidly that the girl was _blind_ , for Spirit’s sake, but then Toph slapped a palm against hers. “Deal.”

Katara smiled, pleased. “Very well, then. Would you prefer to sleep here in my chambers or upstairs in the servant’s quarters?”

The girl wrung her hands, and Katara was prepared to call her lady’s maid to gather bed supplies, when the girl stood up. “I’d prefer to sleep with the other prisoners—er—servants. _Your Highness_ ,” Tops said, and curtsied. She left the room without another word, without a dismissal, and yet Katara was frozen, unable to call her back. She could tell the girl was going to be trouble. But for some reason that Katara couldn’t explain, she liked her.

 

 


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all your comments and reviews-they really do mean the world to me :) Finally we get the first Zuko/Katara scene, even if it is brief! But don't worry, the good stuff is coming. Please leave a comment or kudo/bookmark, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: All characters (besides my own) belong to Nickelodeon and Bryke.

 

The screams woke him in the dead of night.

Zuko wasn’t the only one, either. He heard someone in the cell next to him groan and roll over, and another called for whoever it was to shut up. But it didn’t sound like the noise was coming from within the prison. In fact, it sounded like it was coming from above them. This wasn’t the first time he’d been woken up by the sounds of thudding and screaming and crying. It was actually the third night in a row. And considering he had collapsed the moment he made it back to his cell, it had to be pretty loud to wake him up from such a deep sleep. But soon the noise stopped, and the dark creaking of the stone prison rocked him back to sweet unconsciousness.

            The next morning they were taken away again and Zuko was thrown in the cooler. Most of the prisoners considered this the worst form of torture, since it was inescapable and just got worse the longer one was stuck in there, but it was actually a reprieve for Zuko. He spent the time meditating and letting the natural ebb and flow of his inner fire keep him warm. He focused on a few specific images to center himself: His father sitting on the throne, Azula’s clever smile, and his hands around the Emperor’s throat. When the guard opened the door and saw him smiling at this he got 20 extra water whips on the back, but it was worth. Just barely.

            The flesh on his back was stinging and bleeding when they dropped him from the pole. He fell on his back, grimacing as the pain increased, and then one of the guards yanked him to his feet. He bit his lip and glared at the man, but didn’t speak.

            “Let’s go,” the guard said, and started dragging Zuko towards the toothless man with the rod, who was spinning it between his fingers, an eager grin on his face. Zuko groaned inwardly.

But then a voice called out from behind them, and the guard paused to look.

            “I know you!” the voice shouted again, and now Zuko looked back too. A man Zuko didn’t recognize was staring at them, slack-jawed. Zuko looked at the guard, wondering how this Fire Nation man recognized a Water Empire guard, but then the man said something that made Zuko go limp.

            “Zuko! I know you!”

            Zuko’s eyes widened and he felt as though he might pass out. The man was pushing his way through the crowd of people that blocked them, his eyes locked on Zuko’s face, and more specifically, his scar. _Oh no,_ he thought and tried to run the other way, but the guard’s hand was firmly locked around his arm.

            “Let me go!” Zuko demanded, but his grip only tightened. He had to get away from there, away from that man, somehow. He _had to_ , or everything would be ruined. Almost no one knew Zuko’s identity—his father had isolated him from his countrymen to keep him safe from enemy eyes. This man must have worked in the Fire Nation palace if he knew what Zuko looked like. And if the Empire guards found out who he really was, he’d be worse than dead. He’d be better off in the other prison with the other 200 refugees.

            “What’s going on over there?” he heard Prince Sokka shout. _Oh great,_ Zuko rolled his eyes. _Can this possibly get worse?_

Apparently it could, because the man who recognized Zuko was barreling towards them with no discernable intention of slowing or stopping. The guard let go of Zuko just in time for the man to slam into him and knock him to the ground. He pinned Zuko’s arms to the icy stone floor and stared him right in the eye.

            “What are you doing here? Why aren’t you doing anything? Why aren’t you helping us?” the man cried out, his amber eyes wild. The man was obviously disturbed, but his words reached Zuko. He asked himself these questions every single day. _I_ am _trying to help_ , he told himself, _and you aren’t helping by blowing my cover!_ Zuko thrust himself forward and the two of them went flying in the other direction so that Zuko pinned the man against the ground.

            “Please stop!” he shouted in the man’s face, close enough that he could see the fever in the man’s eyes, the flush of his forehead. This guy was seriously ill. They’d barely been fed for a week and it was freezing everywhere. People were dying left and right and it looked like this man only had days left. But he was still surprisingly strong.

Zuko was suddenly thrown to the side and rolled a few times before he stopped himself and got up, just in time to see the man coming at him. He crouched and sent the man tumbling over his shoulder. He hit the wall and should have crumpled, but instead he got back up and charged Zuko again. Zuko huffed. He really wished he had some dao swords. Still, he was actually enjoying himself. It had been months since he was allowed to fight back against an enemy. His lungs ached but his muscles screamed with pleasure as he feinted to the side and the man sprinted past him. When he attacked again Zuko dropped to the ground and swung out a leg in a wide arc, a move that would usually produce a stream of fire, but now caught his opponent by the foot and sent him cartwheeling over himself. He landed on the ground and Zuko was about to reposition himself when a glittering black sword appeared from nowhere above the man’s neck. He jerked as if to get up, but upon seeing the blade on his skin, froze and looked up.

The Prince stood above him and was looking between the man and Zuko.

“What did we say about fighting, boys?”

Zuko actually didn’t know the answer, but he saw the man’s eyes widen.

Like a flash of lightning the Prince’s sword moved and the man’s neck turned bright red. There was a sickening gurgling sound, and Zuko could not look away as the man’s life literally bled from his body. His eyes met Zuko’s and he pleaded with him. His hand lifted, as if to reach out to his true prince, before falling to the ground, lifeless. Only then was Zuko able to look away and close his eyes, feeling ill.

“And _you_ ,” the Prince said, and Zuko’s eyes popped open to see the tip of the unusual black sword only inches from his face. “You fought valiantly, but pointlessly. Hm,” he mused, “what should your punishment be?”

“Sokka!” a new voice cut through the clamor. The Prince shot an annoyed look at the ceiling as a gap opened in the crowd that had gathered. From it, the Princess emerged, flanked by two guards who were eyeing the prisoners warily. “Lower your weapon.” Her voice was low and commanding. Prince Sokka closed his eyes and sighed. A vein stuck out of his forehead.

“Dear sister,” he said, the frustration in his voice poorly hidden, “I’m afraid what I do with my prisoners is not under your jurisdiction. I already let you have one of them, and that was one too many. Besides, Father gave _me_ this job, not _you._ ” Zuko almost laughed at the childish tone in the Prince’s voice, making him sound less like a royal Prince and overwhelmingly like a chided little brother.

The Princess stood right behind him now, and her eyes were steady as she stared at the back of her brother’s head. Zuko noticed that the skin around one of her eyes was faintly purple.

She placed a hand on the Prince’s shoulder. “Then we should let Father decide, should we not?”

Prince Sokka licked his lips and laughed once, darkly. “I suppose so.”

 

* * *

 

Katara led the party up the stairs and out of the prison. The palace and the prison were connected by a tunnel carved from the ice and patrolled by a whole fleet of guards. They parted when she and Sokka appeared at the top of the stairs, leting them through. The refugee—Zuko, apparently was his name—was being held behind them by two guards. Katara resisted the urge to look back at him. She didn’t know what had come over her. He had been fighting with another prisoner, which was strictly against the rules. He _should_ die. But when Sokka mercilessly killed that other prisoner…it broke something in her. Someone else had died needlessly on her watch. She couldn’t watch it happen again. And plus, this particular prisoner was a prime candidate for a capital worker. He was young, strong, and obviously a good fighter. The latter quality set off a few warning alarms in her head, but she ignored them. He had seemed pretty docile when she ordered him to accompany her and her brother to the palace where her father was having Audiences. They would surely get a tongue-lashing for interrupting him, but Katara knew he would secretly be pleased.  

The two guards outside the conference hall opened the tall blue doors for them and Katara walked through. Her father, sitting on his throne, looked at them. The elderly capital couple kneeling in front of him turned and looked as well. When his eyes fell on the refugee, the Emperor’s eyes narrowed. He dismissed the couple gruffly, ordering some guards to throw them out of the palace. They pleaded as the guards dragged them away, and Katara forced herself not to look at them.

Two of her father’s advisors sat on either side of the throne. They had been her grandfather’s advisors before he died and had dutifully served every Water Emperor who had taken the throne in their lifetimes.

Katara hated them. They were wrinkly, smelly, entitled old men with graying beards who only cared about how much money the Empire would put in their next paycheck. They couldn’t care less about the citizens. Katara made it a point to only look at her father when she spoke.

“Emperor Hakoda, we come before you with an urgent disagreement that needs negotiating.”

“You interrupted me for a petty argument between you and your brother?” the Emperor asked, disgusted. Out of the corner of her eye Katara saw the advisor to the right, a wicked old man named Chan, smile smugly.

“It is important,” Katara insisted. She gestured and a guard dragged Zuko forward.

“Who is this?” her father asked.

“A prisoner, Father,” Sokka said, stepping out. “An insubordinate prisoner, nonetheless. Worthless, really. I was going to kill him for disobedience, but Katara stopped me.”

Katara stepped forward to be in line with her brother who shot a sideways look at her. “He is not worthless. He is young and strong and I believe he could be an excellent worker for the capital, somewhere.” She locked eyes with her father. His narrowed infinitesimally.  

“Princess Katara, are you certain your emotions aren’t simply getting the better of you?”

Sokka snickered and covered his mouth with his hand. Chan and the other advisor, Korak, both dipped their head to cover their grins. Katara felt her face flush and her breathing pick up. Even the guards on either side of her were stifling their laughter. _This is how it will be when you’re Fire Empress_ , she thought to herself. She had a horrible vision of being in this exact same position, only up on the throne with those two ancient parrot-monkeys flanking her, asking her the exact same question. _You are only a woman. Perhaps you shouldn’t be ruling a country, let alone the world,_ they would say. It was inevitable.

She shook her head, blinking back the tears that were pricking the back of her eyes. _No. No crying today._

“I am certain, Father.” Perhaps it was bitterness, or folly, or bravery that made her say these next words, but as soon as they passed forth from her lips she regretted them: “You would be foolish not to listen to me.”

All at once the room stilled. Even the waterfalls that constantly cascaded down the side of the walls ceased their flowing and crackled into ice. Katara felt as though she had turned to ice as well, for she could not feel any part of her body. She was numb. Especially her brain. That must have been numb for her to say something so ridiculous, so dangerous. Her father leaned forward so that his elbows rested on his knees. His hands, clasped together, touched his lips.

“I would be foolish, would I?”

And then, all at once, she felt _everything_. The blood rushed like fire in her veins and she was falling down, bending swiftly to the ice floor, her hands thrown out in front of her. Her forehead bounced against her folded knees and she bit her lip to keep from crying out.

Sokka shuffled beside her, and between the spurts of pain tracing pathways through her body, she knew he was enjoying this. Her arms seemed to stretch impossibly far from her body as she bowed before her Father, who had stood from his throne and was peering down thoughtfully at his daughter. He did not need to maintain a form to bloodbend her. He could do it with a simple look.

“I believe _you_ are foolish, my daughter, for not knowing how to hold your tongue!” and Katara’s spine pressed down, being pushed to the floor. A small groan of pain escaped her throat and she closed her eyes against the tears that were falling freely.

“I’m sorry Father! I am so sorry!” Katara cracked. She hated the power he held over her, but she didn’t have a choice. She deserved this. She had asked for it.

And then the pain was gone and she fell to her side, gulping deep breaths, making sure all of her bones were still intact. Her father had sat back down on his throne and was looking at the group of people still standing.

“I accept your apology daughter. Nevertheless, I see your point. He looks strong enough to work out on the boats, or perhaps in the mills.” He paused then, and watched Katara squirm on the ground. “However, I believe you need to be punished for your outspokenness. Therefore, this young man will work here in the palace.”

Sokka started at this. “But Father, he is rebellious! What if—”

“He will work for you, Sokka, as your servant,” the Emperor silenced him. Sokka looked up to him with wide eyes, but the Emperor was unaffected. He smiled down calmly. “Feel free to do what you want with him.”

This lifted Sokka’s spirits. He grinned and unwittingly fingered the dagger hanging from his belt. Through the haze of pain Katara felt a pang of pity for the refugee, but she couldn’t dwell on it. At least he would be alive, she thought, although one could argue death was better than servitude to her brother.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hooray! I'm on time this week! Anyway, here is the next chapter. Yes, you will be seeing a bunch of other A:tLA characters mixed into this story, hopefully not written too OOC. I'm taking liberties with them, especially secondary characters, since they didn't get too much development in the show (e.g. Jin). I've always had a soft spot for Jin/Zuko even though I love Zutara. So enjoy the angst >:)   
> As always, PLEASE comment/kudo/bookmark. I love hearing from you guys! And if you like this story, feel free to share with friends/fellow Zutarians!
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own any A:tLA characters-all rights go to Bryke and Nickelodeon. I only own my own characters.

* * *

 

That night, Zuko was quite literally thrown into a long, rectangular room by the guards who had dragged him up the stairs. He bounced once and collapsed on the floor. Zuko spat at the guards as they slammed the sliding door shut, trapping him inside. With fire still blazing in his veins, he sat up to take in his surroundings.

All across the floor were pallets lined up in rows. There were many, many people, bundled under blankets, trying to sleep. He heard a few of them turn over and mutter at the noise he’d made. His rage dulled to a simmer as he realized they were all servants, just like he was now. These people had no affiliation with the royals. He had no reason to be angry with them.

He heard a shuffle in the darkness and looked over to see a girl with a frizzy ponytail sit up on her pallet, her eyes still half-lidded with sleep.

“Hello,” she whispered.

Zuko glanced around. _Is she talking to me?_ And then he felt like an idiot. _Of course she’s talking to me, everyone else is asleep_.

“Hi,” he grunted back, sounding ruder than he meant to be. But she didn’t seem to notice. She slid out from under her blanket and went to a shelf at the side of the room, carefully stepping over and around sleeping bodies. She returned a minute later with a bundle of cloth and began arranging it next to her pallet.

“You can sleep here if you want.” She paused and glanced at him. “They don’t really care about separating the men and women,” she added, apparently seeing his blush.

“Oh, yeah. I mean, I didn’t think—that’s fine,” he stuttered. He crawled over to the pallet and slid himself under the thread-bare blanket she’d gotten for him. Without another word she nodded, as if pleased with herself, and lay down, her back to him. He watched her shoulders rise and fall with steady breath until they moved to the calm rhythm of sleep. Then he settled down and pulled the covers under his chin. The roof was made out of ice, and the room was freezing, but he was pretty warm under the blanket. Even so, he knew he wouldn’t get any sleep.

 

The next morning, Zuko woke to the image of Roz reaching for him still left over from his fading dream. His breath hitched in his throat, making him cough, and girl from last night rolled over. Her eyes popped open to stare at him.

“You okay?”

Zuko nodded, not trusting himself to look at her.

“You’re not crying, are you?”

“No!” he said, a little too defensively. He saw her shrug out of the corner of his eye.

“Whatever. Anyway, I’m Jin.” She held out a hand in front of his face. Finally he looked at the girl who had been so unusually kind to him. She had pretty features and kind eyes. Her hair was a mess but it somehow worked for her. Half of her mouth turned up when she smiled at him.

“Zuko,” he said, and took her hand, trying not to wince at how tightly she held it. She was obviously Earth Kingdom, but her grip felt Fire Nation.

 She showed Zuko around the building that morning. They were on the third level where the servants and maids lived and where the kitchen was located. The bathrooms were down the hall and the mess hall was at the other end. The food they were given was dry and there weren’t any seconds, but Zuko gulfed it down. It was more than he had eaten in a long time. He learned that Jin was from Ba Sing Se, but had been relocated to Omashu by her parents who had sold her to work for a mining company in the city.

“It wasn’t a big deal,” she assured Zuko with a flippancy he didn’t fully believe. “And King Bumi was great. But then soldiers went off to war, and Omashu was taken by the Water Empire, so they didn’t need as many workers in the city. I was only a kid, so they captured me and brought me here to work for the royal family. It’s been a real pleasure, let me tell you.” She rolled her eyes. Zuko almost laughed. She definitely wasn’t afraid of the Water Empire; that was for sure. Still, Zuko hoped no one was listening as she continued to insult the Emperor and the royal family. “And you should see some of the laundry I have to do for the Prince. It’s disgusting! You think the guy would learn how to properly use a toilet!” Zuko laughed out loud at that, and it attracted the attention of one of the guards by the mess hall door. Both of them settled down and dropped their eyes to the wooden table.

“So what’s your story?” Jin asked, taking a bite of sea prune.

Zuko shrugged. Azula had always been the one gifted at lying, but he’d picked up a few things. _Keep things simple, and tell the truth as much as possible. It’ll be easier to remember later._ “Same as you, pretty much. Got here a few weeks ago. We were refugees taken from outside Omashu.”

He didn’t want to say more than that, but her eyes widened. “Were you with the group that Princess Katara was in charge of? The ones she put through the trials?”

Zuko looked at her, surprised. She was a lot quicker than he’d given her credit for. “Yeah, that was me.”

She shook her head solemnly and played with the food left on her plate. Zuko had long since finished his meal. “I’m sorry,” she said. “We heard rumors here in the palace. But we didn’t know they were true. What she did to you…it’s awful.” 

Zuko shrugged again, but it was harder to do this time. A lump was forming in his throat as he thought about all the people who’d lost their lives. About the merciless obstacles the Princess had put in his way. His grip tightened around his empty fork. “Yeah, well.”

They were silent for a few moments until a tinny bell sounded from the kitchen, signaling, Jin said, that it was time for work. “How can you even tell?” Zuko asked. There weren’t any windows in the mess hall or the corridors of the second level. In fact, Zuko hadn’t seen a window since he’d been in the palace. Dishearteningly, it felt like he had never left his prison cell.

“You get adjusted to the schedule,” Jin said simply, though he could hear the longing in her voice. He too longed to see the light of day, to feel the sun pour into his skin. He missed the sunrise.

As they were walking from the mess hall to the stairs, Zuko asked about the prisoners, remembering his dream from the night before. “Have you heard about them? Where they were taken?”

Jin shook her head sadly. “All we know is that they were taken to the Pit.”

“What’s that?”

She pursed her lips and hesitated.

His eyebrows shot up. “Tell me. Please,” he added, an afterthought.

She looked at him a second longer, debating. Then she sighed. “It’s a huge prison somewhere on the mainland. No one knows where it is, but…” she bit her lip. “But I’ve heard it’s like Hell frozen over.”

Zuko stepped back. _Hell frozen over_. Coming from someone who’d been forced into servitude by the Water Empire since she was a child, that was saying a lot. And Roz was trapped there. He wanted to ask her more, to find out anything about this place called ‘the Pit’, but before he could a hand gripped his upper arm and a guard appeared behind him.

“Let’s go, fire brat. Time for work.” The guard dragged Zuko towards the doors at the end of the hall and he glanced back to see Jin smile crookedly at him and wave. He watched her until the doors cut him off.

 

* * *

 

 

The Empress collected Katara for a healing session early in the morning when the sunrise had just reached its peak. She told Katara she was training her to be able to heal even in the worst conditions, and they worked straight through the morning and into the afternoon, when the sun was highest in the sky. By the time Kya called it a day, Katara had sweat through her gown and her hair had fallen from its updo. Her mother, of course, looked flawless. But then again, she always did. She was the Empress, respected by all, except perhaps her husband. Maintaining a composed appearance, even in the most challenging of circumstances, was her specialty. Apart from healing, this was the other skill her mother was responsible for training her in. Sure, Katara had been studying under etiquette trainers ever since she could stand up long enough to curtsey, but she preferred learning court manners from her mother.

During their lesson, Kya said she had heard about the altercation between Katara and her father, but hadn’t understood why it had happened in the first place. If she was being honest with herself, Katara didn’t even understand why she had done that. All she could tell her mother was that Sokka was about to wrongly kill an innocent person, and her conscience wouldn’t let her stand by and watch it happen. Kya had embraced her and rested her cheek on Katara’s then-intact hair. “ _To protect even one life is our responsibility as human, no matter how important or insignificant we believe that life might be_ ,” she quoted herself. “My dear daughter, you have such a good heart.”

“So you don’t think I was wrong?” she asked her mother now, as they were walking back down to the first level. Katara desperately needed a long, cool bath, but first she wanted her mother’s opinion on the previous day’s happenings.

And now, as they reached the final stair, Kya rested a hand on Katara’s shoulder and looked her straight in the eye. “You know the answer to that question. Do not let anyone make you doubt your instincts; not even for a moment.” Katara nodded and bowed to her mother, who smiled and opened the door. She watched as the Empress entered her and the Emperor’s shared chambers with her head held high. Katara sighed. She could only hope to be that brave someday.

In her own room, Toph was replacing the bedsheets, her eyes unfocused but hands sure. Katara paused in the doorframe and watched the girl for a moment. The two of them were still at odds, but Katara held the highest regard for her new maid.

Her room was not too large, but it was enough. A bed sat diagonal from the entrance and a dresser stood next to the door, so if—Spirits forbid—she needed to barricade herself inside she could simply slide it over. The very first waterbending scroll her old teacher, Master Pakku, had given her was hung on the wall above her bed, and she often looked at it at night before she went to sleep. It gave her peace of mind when she read the basic forms that she had labored over so tirelessly when she was a child.

Pakku had not seen her potential, at first. He was a very traditional man who had initially refused the Emperor’s invitation to travel to the South to teach his daughter waterbending. But after some ‘gentle encouragement’—her father’s exact words—he relented. The man had been old and gruff and no-nonsense when he first began teaching her, but soon had warmed up to the little girl who used to launch snowballs at him when he turned his back. Katara chuckled to herself as she remembered one day when she had bent herself into a snow man. When Master Pakku passed she had jumped out at him, and he reacted as one might expect a surprised waterbending master. Only when she learned the impressive move years later did she realize how close she had been to becoming a human shish-kabob that day.

            But the years passed, and soon her skill exceeded what Master Pakku could teach her. She had gone through other teachers after he was released from his duty and returned to the Northern Water Tribe, but none of them could inspire her like he had. She didn’t feel as close to them, or as comfortable, as she had been with her first teacher. She hadn’t heard from him in years. A few times she had considered writing him, just to see how he was. To see if he missed her. But she never did.

            Katara peeled her eyes from the scroll and dismissed Toph for the time being. She walked into the bathroom connected to her bed chambers. Inside was a generously-sized tub that she filled with cool water and soap. A moan escaped from deep in her throat as she lowered her body into the silky water. There was something spiritual about being surrounded by her element, being immersed in it.

She leaned her head back over the edge and looked up. Over the years, she had carved patterns into the ice ceiling, and was hard-pressed to find empty space, but she did in the far corner of the room. With small motions of her finger she cut a circle into the ceiling. Little shards of ice rained down onto the floor where they melted and disappeared almost instantly. She kept drawing between washing her hair and body, and only when she was climbing out of the tub did she realize she had carved a blazing sun into the ice.

            Two sharp raps on her door brought her to attention and she quickly threw a robe over her dripping body. She ran to the door and unlocked it. Her father was waiting on the other side.

            “Father.” She bowed her head and pulled her robe tighter around her chest.

            “Do you have plans with your mother tonight?”

            From his tone it was obvious that he expected her to cancel any plans she might have, anyway. She shook her head. “No, Father.”

            This was the first time they had spoken since yesterday and the incident with the refugee. She couldn’t recall his name. The one with the scar.

Her mother had collected her before breakfast, so she hadn’t eaten with her father earlier, and she had been training for the rest of the day. Obviously, he was still upset. He wouldn’t look directly at her, preferring to study the inside of her room or the empty space above her head.

            “Good. We will train.” There was no question in his voice. This was an order.

            She bowed her head again. “Yes, Father.”

            Face down, she saw his feet turn and disappear down the hallway, heard the swish of his cloak over his armor grow quieter as he went back to his chambers. She wondered if her mother was still in there. She wondered if they still shared a bed. The uncomfortable distance between them hadn’t always been there. At least, she didn’t think so. Honestly, there were large sections of her childhood that she just couldn’t remember, or perhaps didn’t want to remember. She thought she recalled a time when the four of them—well, five, if you counted Sokka’s mother, and only Sokka counted her—had seemed like a real, loving family. But, she reckoned, closing the door with a soft click, it was far more likely that she had just imagined those happy times.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's a little early to be posting a new chapter, but I start school on Monday, so I might not have time to post this weekend. I hope to continue updating on a regular basis, but things are gonna get a little crazy, so bear with me: I am determined to finish this story! It always helps to read your comments and reviews and gives me incentive to carry on, so thank you <3 Enjoy Chapter 20!
> 
> Disclaimer: Bryke and Nickelodeon own all the avatar characters, blah blah blah, I own mine, who cares :p

* * *

 

Zuko had been doing ridiculous tasks for the Prince all day. First, he had given the Prince a foot rub, during which he kicked Zuko in the jaw twice ‘by accident’ because he’d rubbed his ‘tickle spot’. Then Zuko had to cut his lunch into tiny squares and feed him. It probably wasn’t the best idea to give Zuko a knife, as he’d envisioned slicing the guy’s throat no less than 10 times, but he cooled down by reminding himself that he was just biding his time. He would get his revenge. Eventually.

Also, his feet were sore and blistered from carrying _his royal highness_ up and down the stairs all day in his palanquin just to go between his chambers and the Great Hall. At least he was getting to see more of the palace. He now had a pretty good idea of the layout of the place, even though he was sure there were many hidden passages and secrets he would need to discover to be successful in his mission.

He hadn’t been allowed to stay in the room while the Prince sat in on the war council, so he lingered outside with his ear pressed eagerly to the door. The Princess had walked up behind him as he did this, and he jumped away from the door, expecting to be hit or dragged away by guards, but she had just looked at him. Without comment, she entered the room. Zuko had stared after her, dumbfounded, as the doors closed once more. She was definintely unusual.

When he asked Jin about the Princess during their dinner break, she got an odd look on her face, a mix of pity and disapproval. “She’s a powerful bender,” Jin said between spoonfuls of kelp stew. “But she’s a woman.”

“So?” Zuko asked, furrowing his eyebrows.

In the Fire Nation, women were just as influential, if not more so, than men. It all depended on your heritage and bending abilities. His sister would have been the one to assume the throne had she not been….

Anyway, gender had nothing to do with one’s leadership qualifications. If you were strong, you were strong, and that was that.

“The Water Empire is more… _traditional_ than most cultures,” Jin explaned. Her voice dropped and she looked up at Zuko through her eyelashes. “It is said that when the Emperor learned that his first-born was a female, he tried to drown her.” Zuko knew this as well, though he had always passed it off as twisted fable. It was disturbing to learn that it was the truth.

“But he didn’t,” he pointed out.

Jin gave him a look as if to say, _well obviously_ , and rolled her eyes. “It is also said that when she touched the water she began to bend it. Even as a newborn she was immensely powerful. So her father let her live, afraid to anger Tui and La, the spirits who had blessed her with such an extraordinary gift.”

Zuko frowned. This image of such a powerful child did not match up with the sniveling girl he had seen in the throne room only days ago. There was no way _that_ girl could live up to the expectations these people had placed on her since birth. She was just hiding in the shell of a powerful bender.

Zuko started, confused. “But why didn’t he just give the throne to his son?” He hated to even consider his royal Jerk-ness as the next Water Emperor, but if the Empire was so concerned with tradition, why wouldn’t they just give him the job?

Jin shot a look around to room to see if anyone was listening to their conversation before hissing, “He’s a non-bender.” Zuko didn’t need further explanation; he understood. Especially in such dangerous times, having a non-bender as the leader of a powerful empire, someone who could not defend himself, was a risky move. Sure he was handy with a sword, but that didn’t mean much against a bender. Even though Zuko prided himself on his sword skills, he had to admit that sheets of metal wouldn’t keep him alive for long if he was faced with a bender and wasn’t able to bend as well.

“So what,” Zuko scoffed, “they’re going to let this girl they don’t respect or take seriously assume the throne of the most powerful nation in the world?”

Jin just shrugged.

Zuko stabbed at a chunk of kelp in his stew, but suddenly wasn’t hungry anymore. None of it made sense. How could anyone respect a nation that didn’t even respect its own leaders?

 

After dinner, Prince Sokka’s guards came to collect him and they went downstairs, but not to the prince’s chambers. Instead, he was led to a spacious room lit with dim torches on the second level. The Prince was waiting for him there, watching with crossed arms as Zuko was thrown into the room. He tripped and landed on his hands and knees on a rubbery mat that seemed to cover the whole floor. It was a relief to not be standing on the cold icy ground, even though Jin had given him a servant’s uniform that morning, which had included thin sealskin slippers.

Prince Sokka approached him and only when he was a few feet away did Zuko notice the black metal sword in his hand. Zuko rose to his feet and was pleased to find he was taller than the other man; it made him feel a little more powerful, even though he was weaponless.

“What am I doing here?”

The Prince tilted his head and looked Zuko up and down, petting his nonexistent facial hair. “My father did say I could do whatever I want with you.”

Zuko straightened. He didn’t trust the sly smile that had just spread over the Prince’s face, the dangerous glint in his dark blue eyes. “And just what are you going to do?” Zuko asked carefully, eyeing the twirling sword in the prince’s hand.

“We’re going to spar, of course!” The Prince threw his hands up and the sword passed disconcertingly close to Zuko’s face. “You look healthy enough. Maybe you’ll be a worthy adversary.” His voice dropped and he leaned closer, as if sharing a secret. “The last few were inadequate, I regret to say.”

A chill ran down Zuko’s spine and suddenly the guards at the door felt more like an audience than an intimidating presence. He didn’t want to know what had happened to the last few ‘inadequate’ partners. “Do I at least get a sword, too?” he asked, and took a step back as the Prince advanced.

The Prince laughed. He actually laughed in Zuko’s face; a bellowing, indulgent sound that echoed through the room and gave Zuko an idea of how vast it really was. “Do you get a sword, _ha_ , that’s a good one!”

Zuko glared down at him. “Wouldn’t you rather win in a fair fight?”

“Oh, I _am_ going to win,” the Prince asserted, his voice becoming instantly menacing. “But you’ll soon learn, my friend, that I never play fair.”

 

* * *

Since Katara wasn’t learning anything new from the masters her father sought out from the corners of the world, he often volunteered to train her himself. She dreaded these lessons, as the majority of them were bloodbending, but accepted his offers nonetheless (as if she had a choice). He was one of the most—if not _the_ most—skilled waterbenders in the world, and even more talented at at bloodbending. Thankfully, this evening they were just waterbending.

            For the past hour Hakoda had been trying to teach her what he called “the Torpedo”, an advanced move that was capable of disabling ships even as fortified as those in the Fire Nation. It was best performed underwater, and against a real ship, but it was almost autumn, making the water too cold, and her father did not have any spare ships to practice on. So instead they were in their training room using each other as dummies.

            Katara fell down for the fourth time as her father’s torpedo hit her square in the chest, knocking the breath from her lungs and sending her tumbling backwards towards the doors. Panting heavily, she pushed herself to her elbows and looked across the room at her father, who was studying her with a sour expression.

            “This is not that difficult, Katara. You should have mastered this by now.”

            _Maybe if you’d stop beating me up, it’d be easier,_ Katara thought bitterly to herself as she rose, shakily, to her feet. She resumed a fighting stance, her upper arms screaming with the effort. As her father had taught, she called two streams of water from the barrels that sat to the side and began weaving them together into one thick pike. Then she spun, bringing the water around her body diagonally, and sent it streaming towards her father. But she could see that it wasn’t sturdy, not like her father’s attack had been.

            The water shivered and broke formation right before it reached him, and he parted it with a simple flick of his fingers. Katara watched as the pike broke into separate streams and her head dropped, knowing what would come next. But she was spent. The move was too difficult, and she didn’t have any energy left, not even to defend herself as her father redirected the water. It circled around him once and then reformed into a solid pike, hurtling toward her, and connected with her stomach with enough force to break the steel barrier of a Fire Nation ship.

            Katara was thrown back into the wall and collapsed to the floor, groaning.

“I think that is enough for one evening,” the Emperor snarled, disgusted. He collected his robes and began putting them on while Katara peeled herself off the floor, limb by limb. One of her ribs was definitely broken, but she kept quiet. If she complained about it, he would probably just break another one to teach her endurance.

She managed to get into a sitting position by the time her father approached, drying his hands on a cloth. He bent down so they were eye-to-eye, and Katara knew what he was about to say.

“You are weak.”

His words came as no shock: he always told her this after every training session. At least this time he wasn’t saying it while bloodbending her or throwing ice daggers in her direction. Katara looked down, unable to keep his gaze. It’s not that she was afraid of him—well, she _was_ afraid of him, actually—but more than anything she was ashamed. Because she knew she was weak. Every one of her masters had told her that, except for Pakku. Even when she could beat them, they always chalked it up to luck, or dirty tricks. “Scrappy,” they called her. Her bending was “messy,” and “unorthodox”. And she was always weak.

“Are you keeping up with your exercises?” Hakoda asked.

Katara nodded. Every morning she went through basic forms in hopes to strengthen the core of her bending. She’d been doing them since she was a child, and she could perform them in her sleep, but they didn’t help her now. Something was missing.

She wished she could contact Pakku. Her her bending had never been stronger than when she was studying under him, and she was just a child then. Sure, perhaps now she knew more advanced moves; attacks that could debilitate and kill. But they weren’t _strong._ Pakku had once told her that a waterbender’s strength came from her spirit, from the natural energy that moves through her. Katara didn’t know if this was true or not, since none of her other teachers had ever said anything similar. But if it was, something in her spirit was seriously wrong. 

Her father’s lips flattened to a thin line. “Perhaps you’ve been spending too much time with your mother. You’ve been distracted from your training.”

“No, Father,” she tried to insist, afraid he might ban her from healing lessons, but he held up a hand.

“I’ll have a talk with her.”

_A talk_ , Katara grimaced, knowing that this little ‘talk’ would turn into an argument, and probably a fight. She could only hope it wouldn’t turn physical. She’d never seen her parents bend against each other, but she couldn’t imagine it would go well. They were both talented benders, but in very different ways. Even so, her father was immensely powerful, and ruthless to boot, so she couldn’t see a scenario where her mother didn’t suffer. It made her cringe.

The Emperor stood up, tying his hair back into wolftail. He was dressed once more in his royal regalia. Nothing about his appearance indicated he’d just been in a fight. Then again, it hadn’t been much of a fight for him.

He didn’t look at her as he said, “You’re a disappointment,” and left the room.

As much as she tried not to let his comments hurt her, she couldn’t avoid the sudden pain in her chest. It felt like she’d been attacked all over again. _You are weak, you’re a disappointment, weak, disappointment,_ echoed in her mind, loud as a foghorn, and yet silent as a whisper, meant for her ears alone.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone, sorry it took so long to get this chapter up. I started school last week and it's going to be a much harder semester than I anticipated, so bear with me. Not to sound like an attention grabber, but your reviews and comments honestly do motivate me to keep up with the story. And I can use all the motivation I can get right now! Thanks for sticking with me on this wild ride, and enjoy :)
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Avatar-verse or its characters, I only own my own. (Ew that was a weird sentence)

* * *

 

_Water. I need water._

It was the only thing Zuko could think of as he scrambled up the stairs, clutching his arm with tourniquet fingers. He didn’t want to go to the kitchens or the servant’s bathroom. He didn’t want them to know what had happened to him. He was the Fire Lord’s son, the Crowned Prince for spirit’s sake. He should be able to protect himself.

But then again, he never really had a chance. It’s not like he could have fought back. It was like he was in the torture room all over again, being beat up by cowards who rejoiced in it. He should have just killed Prince Sokka. He should have killed him and then went for the rest of his family. Zuko gritted his teeth, partly because he hated himself for being so weak and partly because the pain was beginning to make his vision go black around the edges. He had to clean and bandage the wound before he passed out.

He was halfway down the hall when he heard the muted tinkling of what could only have been water. He pushed a thick wooden door that opened to a dark hallway, faintly illuminated by an almost magical blue light at the end of it. He tightened his hold on his slippery arm and followed the light.

When he saw what waited at the end of the hallway, he came to an abrupt stop, almost tripping over his own feet. The room itself was rather small but full of buzzing energy. A stream of water circled the entire room and glowed a brilliant light blue, illuminating the dark room—

Including the girl that was sitting in the center, moving an ethereally glowing hand over her abdomen. Her head jerked up when she heard him approach, her eyes wide.

“Princess! I’m sorry!” Zuko said, his voice shaking with weakness. “I didn’t know anyone was in here. I’ll leave.” He began to back away with his hands up and her eyes were immediately drawn to his bloody palm.

“You’re hurt.”

As if it could hear her, the cut on his arm started to throb and he grabbed it, wincing. “I’m fine.”

Her face was blank as he said this. “Really?”

He nodded, but knew she saw right through him. His vision blurred and he felt himself lurch to the side, only to meet the icy wall with a solid _thud_.

“Come here,” the Princess said, and Zuko shook his head. In the back of his mind he knew this was the perfect opportunity to eliminate one member of the royal family: It was late so most people were asleep and the two of them were alone.

But he was far too weak to fight a waterbending ‘prodigy’. _Yeah, right_ , he thought. She hadn’t seemed like much of a prodigy when she was being forced to the floor by her father the day before. That was the first time Zuko had witnessed bloodbending, and it had terrified him just as much as he expected. Even more so, considering the Water Emperor had done it to his own daughter. His father would never do that to him. Sure, he had made mistakes in the past—his scar burned slightly, remembering—but he was a good man. Unlike Emperor Hakoda. And as he watched the Princess approach him with her glowing hand and pitying look, he _wanted_ to attack her, to load all of his frustration into a great ball of fire and throw it at her face, but he couldn’t. He could barely stand.

The Princess was right in front of him, now, looking at the cut on his arm. As she pulled away the damp shreds of his shirt she sucked in a breath through her teeth. “Wow, this is bad.”

Zuko scoffed. “Yeah, well, you have your brother to thank for that.”

His good eye widened as the words came out of his mouth, an unstoppable spew that he regretted the moment it escaped. He expected her to attack him, to incapacitate him or call the guards. To speak out against a royal was grounds for imprisonment or punishment by force. But Zuko was surprised when her lips pressed tight together and she settled a wet hand on his arm. Without a word of warning the water suddenly began to swirl and glow, and he felt her fingers move against his skin. There was only that one point of contact between them but Zuko was astonished at how close she stood, how she seemed to be all around him. And then a cool sensation flowed through his arm and he felt his entire body relax.

As soon as it began, the feeling stopped, and the Princess dropped her hand and took a step back, her eyes still on his arm.

“I’m sorry. About Sokka. About this whole…situation.” She took a shaky breath and her eyes finally met his. “It’s my fault.”

Zuko tore his gaze from hers to look down at his arm, which he expected to be red and raw or encased in ice. But instead, the skin there was fresh and flawless. In fact, it looked like there had never been an injury in the first place. He looked at her in awe.

“How did you—”

“I’m a healer,” she explained, and went back to her mat in the middle of the room. She bent a stream of water around her hands and started moving them over her stomach again. She was fully clothed in sparring gear and Zuko wondered if she had been hurt, too.

And then he wondered why he even cared, because he intended to do more than hurt her. He would kill her.

But not here. Not now. It wasn’t the right time. Even if she was injured, it was obvious she could still handle herself, and he might have difficulty taking her down if she could simply heal any wound he might inflict.

 _Also, she might have just saved your life_ , a voice in the back of his mind annoyingly pointed out. Zuko silenced it and stepped forward. She didn’t react, but Zuko knew she was aware of all his movements. He could see it in the tension of her neck, the way her eyes looked down at her stomach but saw him in the peripheral. He knelt a few feet away and bowed. It was disgraceful for the Crowned Prince of the Fire Nation to bow to the Water Empire Princess, but it was only right. It was honorable.

“Thank you, Your Highness.”

Her hands stilled. She considered him, her eyes narrowing, and then something in them softened. She was almost painfully easy to read.

“Katara. Call me Katara.”

He lowered his head respectfully. “Katara.”

She nodded back to him. Zuko watched silently as she bent the water out of her tunic then unfurled one leg and pulled up the fabric there. Dark purple bruises painted her skin. Zuko glanced at the door, wondering if she was going to dismiss him, because he certainly shouldn’t be seeing this, but Katara said nothing. She simply bent a new stream of water and began running it up and down her leg.

Zuko cleared his throat. “If you don’t mind me asking, Your Highness—“

“Katara.”

“Right, Katara,” he corrected himself awkwardly. “What happened to you?”

Katara’s chin seemed to rise a little higher. “Training.”

Zuko frowned. “That seems like pretty rough training.” She didn’t say anything more. When she finished with that leg she moved to the other, which was just as battered, if not worse. He noticed what looked like the fading red line of a scar on the forearm facing him, and another on her exposed shoulder. She had really taken a beating.

“And who were you training with?”

Katara froze for only a fraction of a moment, but it betrayed everything. Her eyes flickered to his, and then she looked down. She moved with a different rhythm now, a more frenzied pace, like panic, and Zuko knew the answer.

“Your father?”

“Don’t speak of my father,” she replied immediately, not angrily or accusatory, rather like a reflex. But she didn’t deny it. Zuko frowned in disgust. _What kind of father would do this to his own child?_ Suddenly the scene from yesterday did not seem so shocking. Zuko got the feeling that displays of power were a common occurrence in the royal family.

And the screams he had heard at night were no longer a mystery.

 

* * *

Katara laid in bed that night staring up at Master Pakku’s scroll. She wondered what he was doing right at that moment. Maybe he was sitting in his home eating. Maybe he was out on the town. Or perhaps he was bending, training a new student. Could he be thinking of her? Katara considered getting up and writing him a letter—a hawk could deliver it tomorrow, and it would get to him in a few days—but decided against it. He wouldn’t want to hear from her anyway.

Without thinking, Katara rolled onto her stomach and groaned at the sudden rush of pain. Her abdomen still ached from training. Her father had gotten in some pretty good shots. She ran a hand absently over the sensitive skin of her stomach, going through the healing motions. But she had already spent too much time and energy trying to heal herself earlier. Her mother often said that healing was a process, not a reaction. Internal injuries were much harder to heal than external. And she had also spent a lot of her energy helping that servant boy, Zuko, which only made treating her own injuries that much more difficult.

Still, she didn’t regret helping him. It was her fault he was in that mess in the first place. Sokka would get an earful from her tomorrow. Zuko hadn’t been willing to tell her the details of their little ‘spar,’ but she’d gotten a pretty good idea of what happened. Sure, her father had given Sokka power over his servants, but that didn’t mean he was allowed to treat them like ragdolls; to throw them around for his own amusement.

So Katara didn’t regret fixing what she had damaged in the first place.

She hated to admit that when he had first stumbled into the healing room, she’d been afraid. He was obviously Fire Nation—she’d known that the first time she’d lain eyes on him. From his dark, wisping hair to his ivory skin to his prominent scar, he screamed Fire Nation. He screamed danger. And her father had always taught his children to be wary of the Fire Nation citizens; they were malicious, conniving and cruel.

But Zuko had just looked so…broken. And not just because he was bleeding profusely and was about to pass out. No, his pain went deeper than that. She couldn’t pinpoint it exactly, but there was something in him that tugged at her compassion. Her father would call that weakness. He would say she was spineless.

Sokka would say she was stupid and naïve.

But she didn’t care. She was glad she helped him. So far, he had done nothing to make her question his loyalty. He had taken Sokka’s beating in stride, and had gratefully accepted Katara’s healing. _As long as he keeps to himself,_ Katara reasoned, _he should fit in here just fine._

Even with her immediate doubts quelled, Katara fell asleep to visions of the palace melting in a wave of fire.

 

Sokka didn’t appreciate the lecture she gave him the next morning at breakfast. Their father was absolutely unconcerned about the way Sokka was treating his servants and refused to do anything about it—probably to punish Katara in some twisted way. So she took it upon herself.

“They’re just servants!” Sokka yelled, spitting out bits of fried seal all over the tablecloth.

“They are also people, and deserve to be treated as such!” Katara shouted back. Sokka’s glass of water froze over with her rage and he rolled his eyes.

“Oh great, thanks a lot. Get a hold of yourself, would ya?”

Katara just glared at him. She had half a mind to send the water flying up into his face, but, contrary to his belief, she _did_ have _some_ self-control. Meanwhile, the Emperor excused himself from the table.

“Katara, Audiences today,” he said as he left the room.

“Of course,” she sighed, and buried her face in her hands. She was already stressed out and definitely not in the mood to listen to her people complain for hours. It didn’t help that she barely got any sleep the night before. She’d had nightmares of the palace burning down, her father and brother being tortured, and her mother being swallowed by flames. She didn’t usually have such vivid dreams, and she rarely remembered them in the morning. But for some reason this one stuck with her, and she couldn’t help but think maybe it had something to do with him. The fire boy. Zuko.

“You know, you’d better stop protecting these rebels, sister.”

Katara looked up at her brother wearily. He was leaning back in his chair, eyeing her contemplatively. “Father might begin to think you _care_ for them. I don’t know about you, but that doesn’t sound like something the future Water Empress should be invested in.”

“Shut up, Sokka.” Katara stood, throwing back her chair with more melodrama than necessary, and stalked towards the door.

“Oh don’t be grumpy, Kat!” Sokka called after her. She bristled at the use of her childhood nickname. “Remember, you have an adoring public waiting to see your smiling face.” She could hear the smugness in his voice. “I’m sure Audiences won’t be that bad today.”

 

He was terribly wrong, but surely he had known this.

Hundreds of irate capital citizens were queued long before Katara even got to the Great Hall. When the guards unlocked the doors they rushed in like a raging river, fighting and leaping over one another to get to the front of the line to have an audience with the Emperor and Princess. The Emperor, of course, paid little mind to his people. He preferred to sit in the secondary throne and pretend to read the grievance scrolls, falsely nodding every once in a while to make it appear like he was paying attention.

Katara had the hard job.

She had to hear every story and determine firstly whether or not it was true, and secondly what to do about it. One man wanted another man drowned for stealing his arctic hens—she fined the guilty party the cost of the hens plus interest; a woman claimed that her house had been raided by Empire soldiers and demanded reparations—Katara caught her in the middle of her lie and sentenced her to two months in prison. By the time she was halfway through the line she could barely keep her eyes open. Her mouth tasted of mud and her jaw hurt from speaking. The roar of the crowds became a ringing in her ears and she begged her father to take over.

“This is your responsibility, Katara. A good ruler never retires or passes his duties off to another.”

She simply stared at him. _Is that not_ exactly _what you are doing?_ But she dared not cross her father, not in front of her public. Not after what happened days ago when she stood against him. _Especially_ not after last night. _Disappointment, disappointment, disappointment…._

            So she completed the task placed before her. By the time she finished she could barely carry herself to her chambers, and when she arrived, promptly collapsed on her bed. Toph offered to draw a bath, but she waved the girl away. After that, it didn’t take long for sleep to take her. Thankfully this time nightmares did not plague her dreams.

 


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all your reviews and comments and such! They make me smile when I'm feeling down :D Here is the next chapter. College is still crazy-this week was pretty horrible haha-but I got it up! Hope you like it...let me know (p.s. I know it's a filler chapter, but it's cute so w/e)! Also, the poem referenced is "Like The Water" by Wendell Berry, and you can read all of it here (I think it's really beautiful): http://www.famouspoetsandpoems.com/poets/wendell_berry/poems/134.html
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own a:tla blah blah ugh (I don't own "like the water" either)

* * *

 

Prince Sokka went out hunting with a group of nobles from the capital the next day. Zuko wasn’t allowed to go as Sokka figured he’d try to escape. Which was ridiculous, because even if he did escape—even if he _wanted_ to escape—where could he go? As it turned out, being stuck in the palace wasn’t all bad. Zuko got to follow Jin around all day and help with her chores. They were on the receiving end of a few glares and low grumblings, but Zuko paid them no mind. There was nothing wrong with him helping out, and he told Jin as much when she expressed her worry.

“You’re my friend. I really don’t mind, and neither should you,” he insisted as he carried a second load of laundry from the third floor to the first. Apparently, there was a rather important event coming up in a few weeks. Nobles from the Northern and Southern Water tribes had been invited to the capital for a Supreme War Council followed by a banquet and a ball. 

 _Of course they’d want to have a ball to celebrate the planning of total world domination_ , Zuko had thought, disgusted, when he first heard about the event. Immediately after that, he had realized that this was the perfect opportunity to exact his revenge on the most important people in the Water Empire. They’d all be gathered in one convenient location. He could wipe them out in one fell swoop.

Jin had kept chattering on while he thought about this, so he completely missed her instructions on how to properly dress the beds. She was currently chastising him for it.

“No, Zuko, the fitted sheet goes under the flat one. Did you hear anything I said earlier?”

Zuko smiled sheepishly at her and undid his latest attempt at bed-making.

She sighed and laughed tiredly at him. “You’re hopeless. I feel bad for whoever you end up marrying.”

Zuko glanced up at that, and their eyes met for a brief moment. Her cheeks immediately flushed and she turned her attention to the sheets, suddenly very intent to get rid of all the wrinkles in the wrinkle-less fabric. Zuko merely watched her for a few moments before returning to his own work.

It’s not like he hadn’t thought about marriage before. In the Fire Nation, it wasn’t unusual for a boy to marry as young as sixteen, girls even younger. Unlike the other nations, many couples were able to marry for love in the Fire Nation. Only the royal family generally married for more advantageous reasons. Before she was needed in the war, Azula was set to marry a man from a large city in the Fire Nation, one of many sons of the wealthiest family in the east. Their money was needed to fight against the Water Empire, and at that point in time, money was more important than political alliances.

Besides, their father had figured Zuko would marry an Earth Kingdom princess when he came of age to establish the Fire Nation’s presence in the conquered nation. Certainly if he ever made it back—no, _when_ he made it back—an engagement would be made at once so that when he ascended to the throne, he had a competent woman by his side to help him rule. And in the unlikely case he didn’t return, his younger brother Roku would take his place. When Zuko left the fire nation there had already been arranged marriage in the works for his baby brother.

He wondered what Roku looked like now.

When he was born, he looked exactly like Zuko did as an infant. His mother had held pictures of them side by side and they were almost identical: dark, fluffy black hair with warm golden eyes. But as he grew up their differences became more obvious. Roku was chubbier, with a round face and wide eyes in comparison to Zuko’s thin face and body and narrow eyes. He was also rather outspoken. Even though he couldn’t technically speak using real words, he made his presence known, commanding the attention of all those around him like the Prince he was. Their mother adored him. Had she been there, Azula would have pretended to be disgusted by his drool and smelly diapers. But he would have wormed his way into her heart. Zuko loved his little brother, of course, but he also knew that Roku had been born to replace him. His existence was intentional, created for Zuko’s absence. And he couldn’t simply forget about that, no matter how adorable his gummy grin was.

Zuko was finishing up the bed in the last room of the hallway when Jin came to collect him.

She smiled conspiratorially, all awkwardness from before vanished. “Want to wash some royal underwear?”

 

Jin wasn’t lying before when she said Prince Sokka’s clothing was disgusting. Since Zuko was a boy, she had given him the Prince’s soiled undergarments to clean, and Zuko’s arm was sore from scrubbing all the stains. Jin saw him struggling and laughed as she wrung out a blue tunic Zuko thought he recognized as the Empress’s. He’d seen Empress Kya a few times, usually when her path crossed with Sokka’s. But it was always a tense junction. The way the Prince looked at his mother, the tone of voice when he spoke to her, the way he’d leave in the middle of their conversation, made Zuko certain he did not love her.

Zuko could not imagine being distant from his mother. His father was a good man and a good leader, but his mother was the backbone not only of Zuko’s life, but of the Fire Nation as a whole. She was a non-bender but had a deep knowledge of politics and could command an army without hesitation. She was strong and tactful, but also loving and compassionate. She had been Zuko’s confidante since he was a boy. He would run to her when Azula picked on him or whenever he learned a new firebending trick. And even though things had been strained ever since Roku was born, he loved her.

The Prince obviously knew nothing of love.

Zuko had just hopelessly thrown aside a pair of Sokka’s underwear when a servant girl came into the room.

“Can I help you?” Jin asked. The girl, no older than 13 or 14, strode forward. She wasn’t looking at Jin but walked straight toward her, a bundle of fabric in her arms. She gestured and Jin leaned down so the girl could speak into her ear. She looked familiar, somehow. Those eyes…

And then he recognized her. She had been one of the prisoners. He had only seen her once, during the first trial, but it had just been a passing glance. So she had made it through. _Good for her_. She was one of the lucky ones.

Not for the first time that day an image of Roz flashed across his eyes.

He leaned forward and gripped the edge of the water basin, closing his eyes tightly against the boy’s face. The guilt was just as strong as it had been that day he woke up in the stone prison, and the empty feeling of failure began draining his heart of whatever happiness it had found in the past few days.

“Hey, you okay?”

Zuko turned around slowly, the image slowly fading from behind his eyes, like a portrait melting in the rain. Both Jin and the girl were standing at the other washbasin, watching him.

“Um, yeah.” He cleared his throat. “I’m fine.”

“It’s Zuko, right?” the servant girl asked.

His eyebrows furrowed, but he nodded. “Yeah, how did you—”

“I know things,” she replied with a smug grin. Zuko didn’t understand what she meant by that, but didn’t press the issue. He didn’t really care, anyway.

“The name’s Toph,” she said with an outstretched hand.

“Nice to meet you.” Zuko met her hand and almost shouted when she crushed his. Her smile grew.

“You too.”

 

* * *

 

“I’m so pleased you two have returned,” Master Udan said, smiling proudly, as he set a piece of parchment and a quill in front of Katara and Sokka. They sat beside each other, kneeling, in their old school room. Katara cast a sideways glance at her brother, who was slumped over and pouting at the prospect of getting back to their studies. He had been enjoying the freedom of doing whatever he wanted whenever he wanted. Only days ago he had gone out on an unnecessary hunting trip to hunt artic wolves, an endangered species. When Katara confronted him about it, he merely turned up his nose. “Yes, endangered for the peasants. But for _me_ , it’s open season.”

Sokka was especially grumpy today considering he hadn’t caught a single wolf on his excursion. Katara took secret delight in his misery. Plus they were going back to school, much to Sokka’s chagrin.

Weeks ago, when they had received word of the refugees, her father had insisted they take a recessfrom their education to get some real-world experience.

Master Udan initially protested, as did Katara’s mother, but the Emperor insisted. Katara hadn’t been thrilled, but she had no right to tell her father what she should and shouldn’t learn. And besides, if she was going to rule one day, she _did_ need real-world experience.

So she and Sokka hadn’t focused on their studies for weeks. Sokka had always hated their lessons. He would rather be training or perhaps drowning wolf bear pups. Katara was excited beyond words to return to Master Udan. She longed to pick up the quill and dip it into the ink, to draw characters and words and create something that did not exist before. But she was also apprehensive. She’d never had an audience quite like this.

Master Udan always oversaw their studies, and usually she and Sokka both had aids to fetch them food or supplies, or deliver and receive messages for them. They were always respectfully distant.

But today, both Toph and Zuko were here. She didn’t know what to expect.

Her relationship with the Earth Kingdom girl had not improved much since she’d first come into Katara’s service. There were not as many outbursts or snide comments (at least to her face) but the girl was still quiet and aloof. She would fetch the afternoon tea when asked, but it was bitter. And she would draw Katara’s baths, but the water was always chilly. Perhaps Katara was simply imagining the girl’s disfavor. Her father always said she was too sensitive to others’ emotions. After all, Toph did everything she was told to do, and without much complaint. Really, what else could she ask for?

 _A friend_. Secretly, when she had rescued Toph from the dungeon, she had hoped she might be grateful and express that gratitude through friendship. There was a shortage of girls around her age she was permitted to talk to in the palace, and even less she could trust to be loyal to her secrets.

Briefly, she glanced back at Toph. She sat casually against the wall, legs wide open, eyes downcast. Not the picture of propriety, but Katara kind of liked that about her.

The person next to Toph shifted and drew Katara’s gaze. Their eyes met only briefly, but it was enough to unnerve her.

Zuko knelt appropriately behind Sokka, hands clasped, eyes trained on his master’s back. But when he looked at her, she saw something brewing behind his placid appearance. Something exciting. Dangerous.

Katara turned away and frowned. He seemed different from when she healed him. Of course, he _had_ been suffering from major blood loss at the time, but still. People don’t change that fast. Back then he had been considerate, appreciative, even kind. Now he just seemed…angry.

Master Udan instructed them to begin. Katara started copying words off a scroll of poetry. It was not long, unlike many of the other scrolls Master Udan had presented them with, and it was old. The edges were worn, bumpy, and yellowing. But the words flowed like they had been born only moments ago.

_Like the water_

_Of a deep stream,_

_Love is always too much._

_We did not make it._

_Though we drink till we burst,_

_We cannot have it all,_

_Or want it all._

_In its abundance_

_It survives our thirst._

 

“What’s that?” Sokka asked, peering over Katara’s arm. She tried to shake him off, but he lost his balance and fell into her. Katara’s hand dashed across the page, leaving an ugly black smudge on the words she’d just painstakingly written.

“Sokka!” she exclaimed and tried to blot the ink with the sleeve of her dress.

“Oh, don’t do that your Highness,” Master Udan tittered. He ordered Toph to fetch some wet cloths and she went obediently. Katara shook her head in disbelief and continued to clean the parchment, much to Master Udan’s displeasure. He whined, “You’ll stain your lovely dress….”

But she wasn’t paying attention to him. Sokka still leaned over Katara, reading what she’d copied with a sour look on his face. “Why’re you bothering with _poetry_?” He spit the word out like dirt.

“Because,” Katara started, “ _some_ of usknow how to appreciate the beauty of literature.”

“This _is_ literature!” He held up his scroll, causing the wet ink to drip messily down the page. It was an excerpt from one of General Attika’s battle plans. Katara pushed it away.

“Oh please.”

“It is!”

“It is not. And your handwriting is practically indecipherable. A catfish-squid could do a better job. And they don’t even have hands.”

A snicker came from behind them, and they both whipped around to see Zuko covering his mouth with his hand. A smile tugged at the tip of Katara’s lips. That was more like it.

“And what are you laughing at?” Sokka growled and moved as if to strike Zuko.

Just then, Toph re-entered the room bearing a bundle of damp towels and hurried over to Katara. Luckily, Sokka mellowed at the interruption. He glared at Zuko with warning, but returned to his parchment. Toph knelt next to Katara and began dabbing at her sleeve. Katara was surprised. She had expected her to wipe it and make the stain worse.

The girl’s hands moved expertly on her arm even though her eyes were trained on the wooden floor. Katara wondered how many others had noticed—or been informed—of Toph’s impairment. She did a good job of hiding it. She was more than competent with everything except reading and writing. Reading was surely out of the question, but she could probably even learn to write, with a good teacher.

Katara placed a gentle hand on the other girl, stilling her. “I think it’s hopeless.” Toph merely shrugged and relinquished the towel to her. Katara felt the brush of the girl’s robes as she took her place beside Zuko.

She was right about the dress. The fabric was completely ruined, but she had managed to salvage her parchment, at least. The characters were a bit blurred, and spots of ink had burrowed in the thin material of the page, but she could still read it. She finished the poem with extra caution, determined to get it perfect.

_We enter,_

_Willing to die,_

_Into the commonwealth of its joy._


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone, sorry it's been so long. Midterms kinda kicked my butt! But here's the next chapter. It's action-packed but has some important character development. I'll try to post more often for the next few weeks until finals. Enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own any a:tla themes or characters, just my own.

* * *

 

Sparring with the Prince was different that evening.

When Zuko was thrown into the room after dinner, Sokka was waiting there as usual. Zuko got to his feet. He figured he wouldn’t fight back as much tonight. Maybe he’d get a couple more bruises, but perhaps he could avoid serious wounds if Sokka felt satisfied sooner. But when he approached, he did not attack. Instead, he produced a second sword from behind his back.

 _Two swords?_ Zuko thought miserably, preparing himself for a whole other world of pain. But Sokka simply held it out to Zuko. He eyed the Prince suspiciously. _What, is it poisoned or something?_ When he got close enough would the Prince slice off his hand?

Sokka shook the sword impatiently. “Well don’t just stand there like an idiot. Take it.”

“Why?” Zuko asked, but reached out for it anyway. The Prince surrendered it without any resistance, and Zuko clutched the metal hilt in his palm. It was perfectly balanced—a fine weapon, one you could only find in the possession of someone very wealthy. They had a few like this back home. Zuko was better with dual dao swords, but this would do. This would do very well.

Prince Sokka rolled his eyes. “My sister has decided that I need to give my sparring partners more of a fighting chance. She was not pleased that you were so badly hurt the other day. Something about you not being a ‘ragdoll’ that I can ‘toss around’ or some foolishness.”

“Well, she’s not wrong,” Zuko shot back, but it was half-hearted. He was too confused by what the Prince had said to come up with a better comeback.

Why did the Princess defend him? She had _seemed_ kind in the healing room that night, but he figured her compassion was a one-time deal. She was the kind of person who sent hundreds to their deaths in the icy sea. And as far as she knew, he wasn’t special. It just didn’t make sense.

Moreover, why did she assume he needed her help? He had been doing just fine against the Prince on his own. Surely she didn’t mean to bruise his ego, but it did nonetheless

He shook his head. He couldn’t think about any of that right now. He finally had a weapon on him, and the Prince was asking him to fight. “Do you want me to go easy on you?” Zuko goaded. He saw the Prince’s hand tighten around his sword and the flush under his russet cheeks.

“As if you could,” Sokka said. And, in a flash, he had thrust forward, sword leading his attack.

Zuko dropped his shoulder and moved to the right, causing Sokka to stumble forward, his weight too far ahead of him. The two circled each other, both swords pointed at the other’s gut. Zuko flipped his sword in his hand, showing off. The sight of Sokka’s scowl put a smug smile on his face. And then he moved forward, circling his blade until it met Sokka’s with a metallic clang, sending electrifying pulses of pleasure down Zuko’s arm. He hadn’t fought back in so long, and it felt _good._

Both opponents threw a few attacks but neither made contact. Sokka only grew more frustrated as Zuko kept dodging him, and Zuko had to admit that the Prince wasn’t bad at swordplay. He had obviously been studying with a good teacher for a long time. But then again—so had he.

“Your swordsmanship is about as good as your penmanship, your Highness,” Zuko said, trying to provoke the Prince into doing something stupid. He didn’t, of course—he wouldn’t be so easily tricked. But it did put him off his guard.

“You know, you and my sister are—”

Without warning Zuko dropped to the floor and swung out a leg, catching Sokka’s ankles and sending him to the ground on his back. With the agility of a master swordsman Zuko threw himself to his feet and deposited the tip of his sword a hair’s breadth from the Prince’s throat.

There was a commotion as the guards at the door realized what had happened. Zuko considered slicing the Prince’s throat right there and then, but it wouldn’t accomplish anything. He’d be executed for murder and treason and the Water Empire would still be in control of everything. So he drew back from the Prince.

A guard grabbed Zuko from behind, yanking his sword from his hand, and another helped the Prince, panting and sweaty, stand up. Once he was on his feet he shook off the concerned guard and stormed towards Zuko until his sword was right up against his throat.

“How dare you!” he shouted in his face.

Zuko glared back. “You told me not to go easy on you. I didn’t.”

Sokka’s nostrils flared as he realize that he did indeed say this, but the edge of his sword pressed harder into Zuko’s skin. “But then you yielded! First-blood, peasant,” he snarled, and Zuko felt the cool metal blade slide along his throat. He dared not speak or even breathe for fear his throat would be slit open. When the Prince pulled away, his sword dripped with Zuko’s blood—a _Prince’s_ blood—and he wiped it on Zuko’s own trousers. But Zuko was still breathing. He was alive.        

Prince Sokka stormed away and the guard released Zuko. He collapsed to the floor on his hands and knees, breathing heavily. His blood made a shallow pool of red on the dark floor and he pressed his hand to the wound. It wasn’t deep, but it wouldn’t stop bleeding on its own. He considered finding the Princess, but just the thought of asking her to heal him made Zuko uncomfortable. Once, just by happenstance was fine, but purposely seeking her out? She might start to think he actually respected her—that he _liked_ her—and he could not have that. The palace healer, an old woman from the North he’d met a few days ago, had probably already gone to bed. He would have to find Jin and ask her to stitch it up for him.

Prince Sokka slammed to the door to the training room shut, the noise echoing angrily throughout the chamber. Zuko glared at the spot where he’d left. He had won that fight fair and square. That stupid boy didn’t know how close he had come to sleeping with the Spirits. If they were in the Fire Nation, he would be thrown in a volcano for wounding the Crowned Prince.

Zuko sighed. But they weren’t in the Fire Nation. And here, Sokka would be applauded for beating up a fire brat, no matter how much he cheated. Zuko would just have to take comfort in the memory of the Prince’s sorry face when Zuko pinned him to the floor.

He couldn’t wait to tell Jin.

 

* * *

 They used a different training room that evening, as apparently Sokka was practicing with his sword. The ‘space sword’ was an extravagant, large thing, and Katara had a suspicion that he was overcompensating. He had a weapons master who taught him how to use all sorts of medieval, vulgar weapons, and even though she hated to admit it, her brother was talented. She could still beat him in a dual, but not without some effort on her part. Her father rarely sparred with Sokka, though, as he preferred to use bending, and wouldn’t hold back against his son, who wouldn’t be able to hold his own.

This room was smaller than the others and darker. There were only two candelabras on either end to provide light. They reflected off the surface of the clay barrels of water that lined the walls.

Her father had already shed his armor and was removing his shirt by the time Katara entered the room, followed by two guards. Silently, she removed her cloak to reveal her training uniform and folded it into a neat pile by the closed door.

“Ready?” her father asked when she returned to her position. The floor of this room was not a mat, like the others. It was ice. She could feel its energy spiral up through the calloused skin of her feet to her legs, steeling her. It was cold, but invigorating. Katara lowered into her stance: knees bent, hands outstretched, fingers splayed. The water called out to her, singing like sirens, begging her to submit. Her father stood upright, his lips pressed to a straight line.

“Ready.”

He did not hesitate.

Like a viper he struck suddenly and viciously, sending a blinding whip of water at Katara’s face. Without moving her lower body she arched her back and sent the stream around her, splitting it into two and sending them hurtling through the air back at the Emperor. But he dodged them and rolled towards her, coating his arms as he jumped to his feet, and brought them together to send a thick rope of water at Katara who only narrowly avoided it.

Her breath came in short spurts as she kicked out with one leg and sent a sheet of ice at her father’s midsection. With an easy flick of his wrist he shattered the disk and sent the shards flying back towards her, which she brushed aside with a controlled wave. Her hair had fallen from its braid and now plastered itself to her neck and forehead with a mixture of sweat and seawater. She smoothed it back quickly to get it out of her eyes and reacted with hardly a moment to spare as a series of spikes broke through the floor near her. She flipped backwards, landing shakily on her heels.

Katara’s body went cold when she looked up to see her father smiling maliciously.

He didn’t even allow her a chance to catch her breath before he sent the next wave of water. She put up her hands, switching to the defensive. Her strength was waning, her lungs racing, heart pumping. But she would not back down. His wicked smile had triggered something inside of her. In her mind’s eye she saw the faces of the innocent men and women she had failed: those who had perished in the ocean, others who had been taken to the Pit to suffer, all who would eventually die by her father’s hand.

Something snapped.

Suddenly she was back on the offensive and the wave obeyed her command to turn back on the man who had given it life. Her arms moved wildly, without thought, and instinct took over. She sent a series of whips at his feet alternated with pumps of her fists that exploded in his stomach and chest. The ice under his feet erupted and encased his entire body, immobilizing him. She saw her father’s eyes widen as a torrent of water careened towards him and then he was gone, hidden under its glossy surface.

She expected him to explode from his icy cage, to turn back to the offensive and take her out with merciless ferocity.

What Katara didn’t expect was to feel arms encircle her shoulders and the unforgiving hilt of a sword in her side. She cried out in pain as the guards forced her to the ground. She heard a growl and looked up to see her father pushing himself to his feet. He violently bent the water from his pants and hair and whipped it to the side, where it met the wall with a loud _slap_. There was murder in his eyes.

The guards yanked her to her feet as her father approached them steadily, his hands clenched at his sides. He stopped only to grab Katara around the neck and pull her up so she was eye level with him. She tried to tell him that she couldn’t breathe, but couldn’t get the words out. The guards still had her arms secured behind her back so that she couldn’t move. Her vision was starting to darken around the edges when the Emperor finally released her and she fell to her knees, wheezing. She felt dizzy from the rush of blood that surged to her head and almost slumped over. Had the guards not still been holding her, she would have.

“How dare you?” her father hissed in her face. Through the haze of lightheadedness she found the will to be affronted.

“How dare _I_? Why did your guards attack me? I won the fight fairly!” she shook her head out of the remaining haze and glared at him, astutely ignoring the throbbing in her side.

“I am the Emperor!”

“And I am the future Empress!”

Her mind tried to figure out why he was acting like this; maybe because their training had gone badly the other day; he was still angry at her for acting out against him to save Zuko; perhaps he’d gotten into a fight with her mother.

He was looking down on her with such hatred she wouldn’t be surprised if it burned her from the inside out.

With a disturbing certainty she realized that there was no reasoning behind this anger. He was acting like a child. He was a coward and a bully, and she was glad she had stood up to him. If this was how he treated those who could best him, then she could almost understand the anger their enemies felt. He was ruthless and diabolical.

But he was also powerful. She was reminded of this when he leaned down and, as swift as the snake she knew he was, punched her in the abdomen with a fist of ice. The skin and muscle there was still sore from their training the other day, and the pain came back tenfold. The breath came out of her lungs in one gasp and she doubled over, clutching her soaked tunic.

“You are weak. _I_ am the Emperor and you _will_ learn respect.”

He towered over Katara. His shadow seemed to plunge her into darkness and she was suddenly freezing, as if she had dove head-first into the icy ocean. The guards released her and she slumped to the floor pathetically, still cringing with the blazing icy fingers of pain that spread out over her stomach.

When the door closed and she was alone, she sobbed.


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so this is the longest chapter I've posted thus far (almost 3,000 words)! I hope you like it. Also--I've passed 100 followers on fanfiction.net and have gotten like 66 kudos and some 1,200 hits on here! The positive response I've received for this story is absolutely flooring! Thank you all SO much. I appreciate each and every person who wastes precious moments of their life reading my story. I have no idea why you do it, but I am grateful that you do. I really hope you are liking the story. PLEASE let me know in the comments/private messaging! I've had so much fun writing it, even though it's been tough between college and some personal problems, so thank you for your patience. Alright this is getting way too sappy--enjoy the new chapter!
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own A:tLA or any of its characters. I just own my own characters and ideas. Ok cool.

 

* * *

 

Zuko was only half-asleep when he heard the door creak open. He’d been reminiscing over his spar with the Prince, remembering his ridiculous face staring up in horror as his sword hovered not an inch above _his Highness’s_ throat. Zuko knew with certainty that had been one of the best moments of his life.

But his day-dreaming was interrupted when he heard the faint thud of the door opening. He sat up on his pallet, eyes still glazed with almost-sleep, and peered at the person silhouetted by the dull light coming from the corridor.

“Princess?” he whispered, squinting. It was definitely her. She was leaning on the doorframe, her arm crossed over her abdomen, hair wild and untamed over her shoulders. Luckily, it seemed that no one else had woken up. Zuko slipped out from under his blanket and made his way over to her, just in time to catch her as she sagged against the door. “Hey, are you okay?” he asked quietly, gripping her shoulders, uncomfortable with their close proximity.

She groaned in response and her eyelids fluttered weakly. Zuko took her out of the room, half-dragging her limp body, and slid the door shut behind them. Out here he could see how pale her skin was. There were deep bruises beneath her eyes and her lip was split, the blood trickling down her chin. He wiped it away before he realized what he was doing. But she didn’t even seem to notice.

“Outside,” she croaked. Suddenly, her eyes slid shut and she went completely motionless against him. They both collapsed to the ground and he cradled her body against his chest, shaking her slightly, trying to rouse her.

“Katara? Katara, what’s wrong? Who hurt you?” His voice shook with something he couldn’t identify as he watched her mouth open and close, too weak to actually speak the words.

_Outside_. That’s what she’d said. He clung to that word like a drowning man and swung her up into his arms. She was solidly built, but slight, and not heavy. He took off down the hallway as fast as he could, only stopping once he reached the doors that signaled the end of the servant’s quarters. There was no way they could get past the guards out there without being noticed. What would they think when they saw their Princess like this? He’d be dead in seconds.

“Katara?” he whispered, peering down at her pallid face. He tried to make his voice calm, but even he could hear the panic behind the words: “Can you get us out of here?” There was no response. He could feel her breathing, albeit barely, but she wasn’t strong enough to waterbend—or even talk—their way outside.

“Let me help,” a voice chimed behind them, one Zuko recognized instantly.

“Jin?”

The girl stood behind them, hands clasped in front of her chest, wearing the thin shirt and pants all the sevants wore for sleeping. She was perhaps the least intimidating-looking person he had ever seen, but the determination on her face was indisputable. She looked at Zuko when she spoke. “I’ll distract them long enough for you to get out.”

Without hesitation Zuko nodded and watched as she crossed the threshold. Adjusting Katara so her head rested on his shoulder, Zuko pressed an ear to the door. He could hear Jin murmuring faintly, then silence. Then there were two grunts and the thumping of footsteps that became disconcertingly louder with each passing moment. Zuko ducked behind the wall just before the doors opened, and Jin, flanked by the two Water Empire guards, passed through the doors. She threw a subtle glance over her shoulder. Her eyes found Zuko and she winked, then continued leading the guards down the quiet hallway.

Zuko slipped between the doors before they had a chance to close and sprinted down the halls. He had a vague idea of where they led, and decided to just keep running until he either found an exit or ran into another night guard.

Soon he stumbled upon a single door at the end of a dim, deserted hallway. He would have kept running had he not seen the sliver of silver light leaking from the crack between the ground and the door. Praying to the spirits that there weren’t any guards out there, Zuko opened the door and was bathed in the glow of the full moon. He took a second to breathe in the fresh air. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been outside without chains. Even though it was freezing, it felt exhilarating. It felt like freedom.

Just this brief moment in the moonlight seemed to animate Katara. She stirred in his arms and he positioned her against a pillar so they were both hidden from any prying eyes that might be lurking in the shadows. He watched anxiously as her breathing became more even and her eyes flickered open, at first darting, then focusing on him. His heart lept.

“Katara?”

In reply, her hand twitched and the ice platform they sat on began to tremble. A jiggling stream of water rose from beside her, almost translucent against the dark sky, save for the shimmering of the reflecting moonlight. It immediately began swirling blue as it covered her hand, and she moved it across the thin fabric that covered her stomach. Zuko simply sat off to the side and watched as the color returned to her face, pinking her cheeks and igniting her blue eyes. His chest seemed to lighten. She was definitely stronger now, but he still reached out to help as she tried to sit up. When his hand touched her arm to steady her, she looked at him, eyes wide, as if he had caught her doing something private.

He recoiled.

But then something in her expression softened, and she smiled at him. “Thank you, Zuko.” Her voice was still quiet, but he didn’t know if that was because she was still in pain, or because she didn’t want to get caught…or if it was something else.

He cleared his throat. “You’re welcome.” His voice was no louder than hers when he asked, “Katara, what happened to you? _How_ did this happen?”

She had been so helpless only moments before. _It was the perfect opportunity_ , the annoying little voice in his head pointed out, but he ignored it. It looked as if someone had almost beaten him to his own mission. Besides, there was nothing honorable about killing her while she was half-dead.

Katara shook her head and tried to sit up before falling back against the pillar with a pained groan. She moved her hand against her stomach again, healing herself with that glowing blue water. It was mesmerizing to watch, though he wouldn’t admit that to anyone, especially not her. There were old tales of fire sages using firebending to heal wounds, although no one had ever seen the skill in practice. It was simply a fable. _But it_ would _be convenient_ , Zuko condeded.

“Katara, who did this to you?” he repeated more forcefully. Her jaw worked but she refused to answer. Somehow, she didn’t have to. He just knew. “Was it your father?”

She still wouldn’t look at him, but now it was just stubbornness. Her silence was affirmation enough. Zuko felt his blood boil. As far as he knew, this was the second time her father had hurt her. But surely he had done it plenty of times before. Why did she keep letting this happen? Why wouldn’t she stand up to him?

“You’re _weak_ ,” he spit out as his anger broke through the walls he had so carefully built up around it. He’d been able to hold his tongue during the trials, and in the dungeons, and even in front of the prince—but not here. She just didn’t make any sense! He hadn’t meant to say what he did—at least, not as harshly—and when he saw her face crumble, he instantly regretted it. But then she sat up, only inches from his face, and her eyes turned to ice.

“I. Am. Not. Weak.” With surprising strength, she shoved him away and stood up, swaying only slightly, and went back inside without another word.

Zuko watched her go, saw the door close angrily behind her. He distantly worried that she might hurt herself, that she wasn’t fully healed, but was too mad to do anything about it. 

_But mad at what?_ Katara? Her father? The Empire? He found that he didn’t know where the emotion was coming from: only that it was uncomfortably strong.

Zuko breathed a long stream of smoke from his nose and leaned against the pillar. At least he was finally outside. This platform didn’t have any sort of exit to the ground, so he was still trapped, but there was fresh air and space. It was a beautiful night. The sky was dark blue and clear, and the stars cast specks of light on the choppy ocean. It reminded him of the sky at home.

He was marooned on this chunk of ice with these unfamiliar places and these strangers who were supposed to be his enemies. And he would have to go back inside eventually, before anyone realized he was missing. But at least in this moment, as he looked at the sky, he felt familiarity. And for now, that was enough.

 

* * *

Katara didn’t go to breakfast the next morning. She told Toph to inform her family that she would be staying in bed that day, as she had suddenly “caught a cold,” and was too sick to perform her royal duties. She was actually completely fine, aside from her sore stomach. But she wanted to avoid her father. He would see right through Toph’s lie, but hopefully he wouldn’t bother her. She was counting on his wounded pride and lack of fatherly instincts to keep him from feeling any sincere compassion for her.

Her father had known exactly what he was doing last night, and any infinitesimal ounce of respect she held for him had been destroyed in that moment. It surprised Katara how easy this revelation had come. She thought she should feel some kind of emptiness, some lingering regret for what could have been. But she only felt finality. It was rather liberating. 

She dressed slowly, trying not to irritate her wounds further. She’d definitely had internal bleeding last night. After her father deserted her in the training room, there had been a few moments of sheer panic when Katara realized she was too weak to heal herself. Then the hysteria had set in, and the pain was overwhelming, and she had to drag herself from the room. In hindsight, she probably should have found the palace healer, or even her mother; she was one of the greatest healers in the Empire and probably could have done a monumentally better job than Katara had done herself. But perhaps the pain had warped her mind, or she was too ashamed to ask her mother for help, because she had somehow found herself in the servant’s quarters.

Katara scoffed now, earning a sharp pain in her midsection. It had been stupid to go to Zuko. There hadn’t been any guarantee that he would help her. He could have gotten a guard and turned her over to them. He could have ignored her. Plus, it was dangerous to let him see her, the Empire Princess, so vulnerable.

She needed to be out under the light of the full moon, where she was where she was at her most powerful. And to her surprise, he helped.

Perhaps he thought he owed her after she had healed him. Spirits, that felt like ages ago. But, she reasoned, that was probably why he helped. And now they were even. Katara made a mental note to thank him anyway. Even though he called her weak, which hurt almost as much as the bleeding in her stomach, she was grateful to him. She hated to admit it, but he might have saved her life.

She had just put on her loosest robe when Toph, without knocking or announcing her presence, came into the room. Before Katara could chastise her, Toph said,

“The Emperor is coming.”

Katara’s words caught in her throat. She thought he would leave her alone. She thought she was safe, at least for a day.

Toph shuffled awkwardly, more unsettled than she had ever seen her. “And he’s mad.”

So that was it. He was angry at her for trying to avoid him. Katara swore softly and finished tying her robe. “Help me lace my boots, Toph.”

The Earth girl obeyed without comment, a rare occurrence, but perhaps she could feel the nervous energy which had swiftly permeated the room. Katara gathered a small sum of money and her travel cloak and tossed another one at Toph.

“Let’s go.”

 

They made it to the end of the hallway, out of sight, just as Hakoda entered from the opposite direction. Katara quickly dragged Toph around the corner, up the stairs, and over to the palace’s front doors. Trying to sound calm, she told the guards that she and her lady’s maid were going out on the town that day, and no one was to know of their whereabouts. “It’s dangerous for us, you see. Bandits and whatnot,” she said, not entirely lying. The guards obediently let them through and they made their way down the grand ice-sheeted staircase. She only looked back at the palace once, just to make sure Hakoda wasn’t running after them.

Katara told Toph to pull up her hood as they reached the edge of the palace grounds and they slipped past another set of guards through a hole in the wall that Katara bent. The less people who knew where they were, the better. It was still early in the morning, so the only people out on the town were various merchants and tradesmen setting up stands beside the road. Katara and Toph went down a side street between two long rows of houses, keeping their faces down and hidden from curious eyes. Their dark coats blended in well with the shadows, so they weren’t intercepted until they reached the main square.

This part of town was considerably more crowded, and a fish vendor asked them to look at his goods, “Freshly caught, just this morning!” Katara shook her head politely and reached behind her to grab Toph’s hand, hoping no one would recognize them. Carts were set up around the fountain in the middle of the main square, selling fabrics and food and novelties. Katara rarely went out by herself, but when she went out with her mother they loved to look at all the crafts and antiques for sale. Today was different. Today, she couldn’t afford for anyone to realize who she was and let word get around that the Princess was in the town. Katara had to practically drag Toph down the street because she kept getting distracted by the smells of pickled prunes and seal kabobs.

Finally, the pair arrived at a quiet tea shop on the opposite side of town. The sign hanging from the front of the squat building read “The Golden Temple.” As soon as Katara passed through the familiar doors, she breathed a sigh of relief and dropped her hood, telling Toph she could do the same.

“Um, sweetness? Aren’t people going to recognize us?”

“We’re safe here, Toph,” Katara assured her. She had been coming here with her mother ever since she was a small child, and the only people who dined here were fishermen and the random vagabond. The woman who owned the place, a short, portly woman by the name of Lilit, was a close friend of her mother’s. Kya had been a server in this very tea shop as a young woman before she went to work in the Palace. When she brought Katara there she would reminisce about those happy, simpler days with Lilit. Katara had a sneaking suspicion that, had her mother not been sent to the palace by her parents, she would have been perfectly content to remain working in the little tea shop for the rest of her life. Katara understood. The place was almost magical in the way it made you feel utterly at home, even if you had never been there before. 

“Darling!” A voice called from across the room, and a woman in a dirty apron emerged from behind a cloth curtain connecting the dining room to the kitchen.

“Lilit,” Katara smiled, and rushed over to embrace the woman who seemed significantly shorter than the last time she had seen her.

“My girl,” Lilit gushed, holding her at arm’s length, “you’ve grown since the last time I saw you!”

“I think you’re just shrinking, Lilit,” Katara replied, and received a playful slap on the arm.

“I’m glad to see being cooped up in that stuffy palace hasn’t robbed you of your sense of humor.” Then Lilit saw Toph standing nearby, who was pretending to look around the room. “And who is this?”

Katara took Toph’s arm and pulled her over. “This is my friend, Toph.” The girl’s eyes narrowed at the term ‘friend’, but she didn’t protest. Rather, she curtsied gracefully and offered Lilit a polite, if not a bit forced, smile.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, ma’am.”

“Oh, don’t be so formal, dear. We’re all friends here,” Lilit said and pulled Toph into a hug. Toph’s eyes widened at Katara, who had to hold back a laugh. Toph obviously wasn’t one for affection and Lilit was the exact opposite. This would be an interesting afternoon.

 

 


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, here's chapter 25! I have winter break in 3 weeks, so hopefully I'll get back on track update-wise. I was on Thanksgiving break this past weekend and got some more writing done, so right now I'm up to chapter 37 (plus some). This is such a long story--kudos to you all for sticking with me :) As always, please review/follow/etc. and if you like this story, feel free to share it with friends!
> 
> Also, would you like longer chapters? Because I can definitely do that! Let me know in the comments!
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own any avatar characters yada yada yada

 

* * *

 

Zuko winced.

“It wouldn’t hurt if you’d stop moving!” Jin snapped at him. She was trying to check the stitches she had given him the evening before, after his spar with the Prince. But everytime she touched the sensitive skin of his throat it sent a shock of pain around his neck and he’d pull back, only making it hurt more.

“Listen,” Zuko grumbled, “I’m sure it’s fine.”

Jin pursed her lips but relented, balling up the wet rag she had used to wipe off the dried blood.

“I can’t believe Sokka did that to you,” she commented as she went to the basin to wash her hands. Zuko leaned back, watching her.

“Yeah, well, he’s done worse,” he said.

“Really?”

Zuko had never told Jin about the night Princess Katara healed him, and by the next time he saw her, his injuries were already healed. It was incredible, really, but he still didn’t want her to know that Katara had helped him. After their excursion the night before, talking about her to Jin was just…awkward. Jin told him that she’d been happy to help, but Zuko saw the odd look in her eyes. Like she was waiting for him to confess to something. He had no idea what that was, so he figured it was just better to avoid the subject altogether.

“Yup,” he said. “But you know, I’m pretty tough.”

Jin laughed out loud and turned around, leaning against the wash basin. “Sure you are. That’s why you almost blacked out while I was stitching you up.”

Zuko hopped to his feet. “What? I did not!”

“Did too!” Jin said, taking a step towards him. “You just don’t remember. Tell me, Zuko, do you always faint at the sight of blood?”

Zuko couldn’t keep the smile off his face. “That’s it.” He reached behind Jin to the running water spout and flicked a handful of water at her, splashing her frizzy brown hair. She stared back at him, open-mouthed, and for a second Zuko thought she was going to slap him or something. But then she grabbed the wet, bloody cloth and snapped it at him, drenching his shirt. The two of them ran all around the wash room throwing cups of water at each other, laughing, and by the time a guard stepped through the door they were both soaked to the bone.

Jin, whom Zuko had just grabbed around the waist, looked up at the interruption, and her eyes went wide. She batted Zuko away and he let her go, feeling his face heat up. His damp clothes suddenly felt like evidence for a crime he hadn’t realized he was committing.

The guard blankly looked at them for a moment before saying to Zuko, “The Prince requires your service.” Zuko nodded and the guard left the room, leaving the door swinging shut, back and forth, behind him. Jin stared at the ground, eyes wide and hands clasped over her face.

“Jin,” Zuko started, worried.

“I can’t believe we just did that,” she said, voice muffled. But when she looked up her eyes were bright. Zuko smiled back and nudged her arm, noticing for the first time how green her eyes were. They looked like gems, sparkling with adrenaline, hypnotizing him.

After a few moments, Zuko realized he was staring right at her and cleared his throat, awkwardly breaking the silence. “I should—um—I should go.”

Jin giggled, covering her mouth with her hand. “Yeah, you should. Prince Soiled-Underpants is waiting for you.”

 

Zuko accompanied the Prince to breakfast and helped him get dressed as he did everyday. When they got to the classroom Sokka sat down at his desk and Zuko took his usual spot behind him. But they didn’t wait for Katara and Toph. Zuko considered pointing this out, but decided against it. Master Udan didn’t ask where they were, and Sokka didn’t offer any explanation.

By the end of the lesson, during which Sokka read and copied more war scrolls while Zuko tried not to fall asleep from boredom, Zuko found himself worrying about Katara. She had been seriously injured and he knew from experience that it was hard to bounce back from that. What if she hadn’t healed herself properly and was lying in a corner somewhere, half-dead? He couldn’t help but feel responsible. If only he hadn’t said what he did, she wouldn’t have run away like that. He could have made sure she was okay, that she healed herself all the way.

He didn’t know where those words had come from. _You’re weak._ Why did he say that? He was mad, of course, but not at her. Her father had been the one to hurt her. But if she really was the powerful bender everyone said she was, why couldn’t she defend herself? Maybe it wasn’t a matter of “couldn’t” so much as “wouldn’t.” Would he stand against his own father if he felt threatened?

 _My father isn’t a ruthless dictator_ , Zuko reminded himself. Still, if his father tried to hurt him, would he be able to defend himself?

Zuko’s scar throbbed. But that had been different. There were different circumstances, complications. He had acted dishonorably and had been punished appropriately. His scar was his burden to bear, his reminder of his lineage and position as heir to the Fire Nation throne. That was different from this. Katara’s father hurt her out of sheer pride, to show that he was more powerful than her. It wasn’t right.

Master Udan dismissed Sokka for the day and Zuko accompanied him down to his chambers where Sokka waved him off.

“If Katara gets a day off, so do I. Don’t bother me anymore.” Zuko rolled his eyes at the Prince’s back. He acting more bitter than usual, and Zuko hoped part of it was because he’d beaten him yesterday. Zuko smiled at the thought as he headed down the corridor towards the stairs. But then he stopped halfway, hesitating outside of a door, one he had never been inside.

He looked at it for a minute, debating. What if she didn’t want to see him? What if she was still angry with him? But he needed to know that she was okay. He glanced both ways, making sure no one else was around, before softly knocking once, twice on the thick wooden door. It was a dark, grainy wood, obviously old, with the Water Empire crest carved into it. Zuko wondered if Katara had done that or if it had already been there when she moved into the room.

No one had answered the door and he was about to leave when he heard quiet movement behind the door.

“Who is it?” a voice asked from inside, one he didn’t recognize.

“Um, it’s Zuko. I’m a servant. From upstairs?” he said, hating how idiotic he sounded. He waited hopefully, waiting for a sound of recognition, and then there was a muted clank and the door opened to reveal a woman with dark skin and hazel eyes, wearing a simple blue dress, peering out at him.

“The Princess is not here right now,” she said, “but you’re welcome to wait. I was just cleaning her room.” The woman opened the door all the way and gestured for Zuko to enter. He walked through the threshold and felt an unusual sort of rush. He had dreamed of this moment so many times. He was in the Water Empire Princess’s room. Granted, when he’d thought about it in the past, he’d pictured himself breaking in and slitting her throat, not sitting on her bed, waiting for her to return so he could make sure she was still alive.

Still, the room looked different than he’d imagined. He thought it would either be all girly—with lace and dolls and frilly things—or with Water Empire emblems all over the place, like the Fire Nation emblems in his room back home. The palace decorators had designed his room, and he didn’t care enough to replace the blood-red curtains and bedspread with the Fire insignia with something subtler. But this place was a delicate mix of both. Everything was blue or white, and the decorations were enough so Zuko could tell Katara was proud of her heritage, but not obsessed with it. A waterbending scroll hung on the wall above her bed, a place of prominence, and Zuko studied it. A few of the images looked similar to firebending stances, and without realizing it, Zuko’s hands were moving, mirroring the stances on the scroll. While firebending was all strength and decisive actions, waterbending seemed to be more fluid and graceful, but with a steady undertow that suggested a hidden power coming not from the movements, but from the bender himself.

Zuko had just stepped up onto the bed to get a better look when he heard the faint click of the door.

 

* * *

“Wait, stop!” Toph said, holding out an arm to keep Katara from entering her room. Katara froze, hand on the doorknob, looking down at the girl with concern. Toph was staring straight ahead, seemingly at nothing. But her body was alert. She seemed to be listening to something, and just as Katara was about to ask if she should call a guard, Toph relaxed.

“Never mind, I know who it is.”

“Who?” Katara asked, wondering not only who it was but _how_ Toph knew. Ignoring her, Toph confidently entered the room.

“Hey there, Sparky,” Toph said as Katara trailed behind. At first the room looked empty and everything was in order. Only when Katara turned did she see Zuko standing on her bed, watching them with wide eyes like a child who had been caught stealing pastries from the kitchen.

If he didn’t look so ridiculous Katara might have been shocked to see him in her room, but as it was, she started chuckling.

“Wait, what did you call me?” Zuko asked, stepping back from the wall, but his foot slipped off the side of the bed and he fell, bouncing off the mattress to land face-first on the floor. Toph laughed, throwing back her head and expressing more emotion than she’d ever seen from her, and Katara hurried forward to help Zuko.

“Are you okay?” she asked, fighting back a smile herself. 

Zuko looked up at her, something complicated in his eyes, before nodding. “Uh, yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.” Katara helped him sit up and lean back against her bed. “But how are you? Are you okay?”

Katara furrowed her eyebrows, confused. “What do you mean?”

His cheeks flushed pink and he ran a hand through his hair, mussed from his fall. “You weren’t at your lessons today.”

Katara lifted her chin. “Ah, yes. That. Well,” she started, standing up and brushing off her dress, “Toph and I decided to go out today. That’s all.”

As she went to hang up her cloak, Zuko sat on the side of her bed. Toph was still cackling in the corner, tears streaming down her face, and Zuko frowned at her. Katara fumbled around with the jewelry on the top of her dresser, more to keep her hands busy than anything.

“Is that really all?” he asked quietly.

Katara looked down. The room grew silent as Toph stopped laughing, and she heard the swish of fabric as she took off her traveling cloak.

“I think that’s my cue to leave,” Toph said. “Call me if you need anything, sweetums.” Katara looked after her as she left the room, immensely grateful for the girl’s company that morning.

After introductions, Lilit had sat them down at a table in the corner and brought them three cups of tea. She asked about Kya, and Katara told her as much as she could without making the woman worry. But Lilit could see through her lies, even if she didn’t say as much. She had grown up in the Earth Kingdom as a little girl, and had traveled to the Water Empire as a refugee when her parents were killed in a landslide. She had to work and fight for everything she had now. Because of that, she was quick as a water-whip and just as tough. One could be fooled by her kind, motherly nature. But if you got on her bad side, she knew a hundred different ways to poison your tea.

So when Lilit had asked how her mother was _really_ doing, Katara had no choice but to tell her the truth.

“Their relationship is…strained,” Katara said, picking her words carefully. Even if she couldn’t lie, she wouldn’t divulge such sensitive information out in public, just in case anyone recognized them and realized who they were talking about. As far as the Empire was concerned, Kya and Hakoda’s marriage was the ideal, a template for every marriage in the Water Empire. If the citizens knew how bad it was, it might cause unrest.

“Is she okay, though?” Lilit asked, concern swimming in her dark green eyes. Katara nodded and hurried to reassure her.

“Of course. You know Mother: she’s strong.”

Lilit squeezed their entwined hands. “Yes, she is.”

They didn’t stay long after that. Katara could sense Toph getting anxious, and Lilit started asking questions about her father, who was the very last person Katara felt like talking about. And if she started, she might not be able to stop; she might tell Lilit everything, and she knew the older woman wouldn’t be happy with the Emperor. She might do something drastic, and Katara couldn’t have that. Not for her father’s sake, of course. She just didn’t want Lilit to get in trouble

“Well,” Lilit said as they were heading out the door, “you tell your mother that I’m looking for another brewer if she’s interested. She was the best employee I ever had.” She and Katara shared a knowing smile. There was no way her mother would leave the palace and her responsibilities to come work in a tea shop, no matter how wonderful the place was, and they both knew it. Still, it was a nice gesture.

“I will,” Katara said, and gave the woman a long hug.

“Katara?” a voice cut through, interrupting the memory. Katara could still feel Lilit’s thin yet sturdy arms around her shoulders. With a sigh she dropped the bracelets she was holding and turned to Zuko.

“What do you want me to say?”

He looked up at her, his eyes blazing. “I want you to tell me the truth. I think you owe me at least that, considering what happened last night.”

Katara bit her lip. It was one thing for Zuko to speculate about her father and the things he had done, but it was another thing entirely for her to speak ill of him to a servant. To anyone, really. Zuko moved to the left leaving room for Katara to sit, and she did. He didn’t press her to speak, but she knew he wouldn’t give up if she tried to change the subject.

Was she really going to talk to him about this? They hardly knew each other!

 _But_ , she acknowledged, _I should have expected this after going to him last night_. And she could always threaten to have him thrown to the polar bear-dogs if he told anyone.

She took a deep breath.


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been literally forever, but here is chapter 26! As per the feedback I've received, I'm going to make the chapters longer (this one is over 4,000 words!) This chapter has a bunch of backstory, so I hope it clears up some stuff. Also, I'm suspending reality a bit and giving Toph the ability to bend ice in this chapter. Just pretend it's earth and it makes sense. Other than that, enjoy!! (Also, sorry if there are any formatting mistakes, this chapter uploaded funny)
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own Avatar the Last Airbender or any of its characters blah blah blah

 

 

Katara pushed the hair back from her face. It hung in a messy braid that touched the small of her back, blending in with the dark brown color of her tunic. Zuko noticed that she didn’t look as put-together as she usually did, with flowing robes and fancy hair and makeup, but rather like a normal person for once. Like a peasant. He wondered where she and Toph had gone that it was acceptable for her to dress like this. Even when Zuko went out in the Fire Nation he was always expected to look like a prince. There were certain times when he went out on his own, and it called for more _inconspicuous_ apparel, but otherwise he was always in robes or armor.

 “I’m sorry about what happened last night,” Katara started. She studied her hands in her lap, not meeting his eyes. Was she embarrassed? Afraid? Zuko didn’t want her to feel that way around him.

 _She should_ , that pesky voice in the back of his mind said. But he shook it off; now was not the time.

Katara continued. “Training got…out of hand. I was too weak to heal myself. But I could feel the full moon outside, and I knew I had to get out there. You were the only one I felt comfortable enough to go to. I’m sorry I put you in that position.”

She hesitated for a prolonged moment, clasping her fingers tightly, before looking up. The candles around the room reflected in her eyes, which were brilliantly blue and watery with tears.

Zuko’s hand twitched, just slightly, towards her, but he didn’t move further. _What do you think you’re doing?_ he chastised himself, clenching his fingers into a fist. She didn’t seem to notice, though, so he said, “Katara, don’t apologize. I owed you for healing me. And for talking to your brother on my behalf.”

Her eyes widened. Perhaps she didn’t expect Sokka to listen to her. Zuko didn’t think Sokka would listen to anyone, but obviously her words held some kind of weight with him.

“So he was good? I mean, he didn’t hurt you?”

Zuko opened his mouth, but paused. His hesitation was enough. Her eyes turned steely and she squared her shoulders to face him. “What did he do?”

Zuko threw his hands up as if to calm her. “I’m fine, really—”

“Zuko,” she said in a warning voice.

He sighed, giving in. “Fine.” He lifted up his chin slightly and pulled down his shirt to expose the jagged stitches that held together the skin of his neck. Her eyes widened as she touched the stitches softly, running a fingertip across the uneven fold. Zuko hoped she couldn’t see the blush undoubtedly coloring his cheeks. _What is wrong with me today?_ He thought, trying to ignore the warm, swirling feeling in his stomach.

“Who helped you?”

“Jin,” Zuko said automatically. Then he realized that she probably didn’t know who Jin was, so he elaborated. “A servant. Like me.”

Katara gazed at him from under her eyelashes, her lips turned downward. He thought she might be mad or something, but then she said, “She did a good job.” Katara leaned back. “But I can heal that for you, if you want. It’ll be a lot faster than waiting for it to heal on its own.”

Zuko let his shirt snap back into place, considering her offer. He wanted to accept. The wound still hurt a little bit, and when anything rubbed against the stitches it itched like fire ants, but there was something almost dishonest about it. If Jin saw that the cut was miraculously healed, she might start to get suspicious. She might think there was something going on between him and Katara. Which was _ridiculous_ , but Zuko didn’t want to give her another reason to dislike the Princess. Besides, if people knew they had this weird relationship where they saved each other from time to time, it would make it that much harder to actually kill her in the end.

“No,” Zuko said with a small smile. “It’s fine.”

Katara shrugged and he thought he saw something like disappointment cross over her face, but it was gone in a flash. “Is that all you came here for?”

 _Was_ that all he’d gone there for? He didn’t exactly remember why he’d stopped by in the first place. He knew he wanted to make sure she was okay, but was that it?

“Yeah,” he said anyway, standing up. “I guess that’s all.”

“Okay.”

It occurred to him that he still didn’t get a straight answer about her father, and he got the feeling that he never would. He paused at the door, one hand on the wooden frame.

“I’m sorry I called you weak.”

She stared up at him, her face unreadable.

“Honestly, I don’t know you or your father well enough to make such judgments. But I do know,” he said, his voice firm, “that you shouldn’t let him treat you like that.”

He expected her to fight back, to defend her father as instinctively as she had that first night they’d been alone.

Instead, she held his gaze and said, “I know.” It took him by surprise. It was the worst thing he had ever heard her say about the Emperor, and it was only two words. Zuko nodded once; nothing else needed to be said. She didn’t make any move to see him out, so he closed the door behind him and stepped out into the empty hall. From the looks of it Sokka was still in his room. Technically, he should have checked to see if the Prince needed anything, but Zuko was still angry at him for yesterday’s incident. Instead, he made his way up to the third floor, where people were starting to congregate for dinner. He spied Jin across the room as soon as he walked through the doors, sitting at a table with another guy and an older woman. She saw him and waved him over, but he just waved back.

He needed to find someone else.

 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

“We need to talk,” Zuko said as soon as he found her sitting by herself in the corner of the room, a plate with a single roll on it sitting untouched in front of her. Toph didn’t move or even acknowledge his presence.

Zuko growled under his breath and sat down rather forcefully, straddling the bench to face her. “Toph, are you listening to me?”

She rolled her eyes and grabbed the roll. “Calm down Hotpants. Don’t blow a fuse.”

He grabbed her forearm, stopping her mid-bite. “That’s exactly what we need to talk about. Why do you keep calling me that?”

She smirked, a half-smile that was definitely meant to taunt him. “You’re from the Fire Nation, aren’t you?”

“Well, yeah,” Zuko said. It was kind of obvious. All the servants had been issued some variation of a blue uniform, depending on their station, so Zuko’s old red clothing had been destroyed, probably burned. But his pale skin and black hair were unmistakably Fire Nation.

“ _Well, yeah_ ,” Toph mocked him, then waved a hand in front of her face. “You’re not very observant, are you? It’s not like I can see what you look like. I am _blind_.”

 _Oh._ So that’s why she wouldn’t meet his eye, and why she didn’t look at who she was speaking to. Now that she’d said it, he noticed the glaze over her light green eyes, the way they stared at nothing as if she were in another world, even though her body language was alert.

“I’m sorry,” Zuko said awkwardly. What else could he say?

“Whatever, Sparky.”

“So is that the only reason you call me that? Sparky and Hotpants, because I’m from the Fire Nation?” Zuko hoped he wasn’t being too obvious, but he had to know. He had to know that _she_ didn’t know. Because if she did, things could go very badly.

“That,” she started, tearing her roll into pieces, “and because you’re a firebender.”

“ _Shhh!_ ” Zuko clasped a hand over her mouth and checked around them to make sure no one had overheard. The dining hall was so crowded and loud, though, that someone would have to be standing right next to them to hear their conversation. Then something slimy and sharp touched his hand and he drew back, cradling it.

“You bit me!”

 “Don’t do that again, buddy,” she threatened, and wiped the back of her hand over her mouth, as if _he_ were the disgusting one. She didn’t say anything more, and after a few moments it became evident that she thought the conversation was over. Zuko grimaced. It was far from over. He grabbed her arm and stood up, dragging the girl with him. She may be tough, but he was bigger and stronger, and now he was angry too. She threatened to scream as he pulled her from the dining room, and he dared her to. She yanked her arm from his grip indignantly, but followed him into the hall.

“This could be considered kidnapping, you know.”

“How do you know what I am?” he asked, forcing her back against the wall and away from nosy ears of people entering the dining room.

“Maybe I didn’t and guessed,” she drawled. “But you just confirmed it.”

He slammed a fist against the wall, sending a shock of pain through his wrist. He forgot it was made of ice. At least she couldn’t see the pain on his face. “You knew. Don’t lie to me!”

“Oh calm down, Fire Flakes. I’m not going to tell anyone.”

Zuko relaxed a little bit and leaned away from her. He didn’t believe or trust her. He would have to do something, nonetheless; it was just too much of a risk for someone to know he could firebend. He’d done a good job of hiding it so far, but if the guards realized he could bend he’d be thrown into prison, maybe even the Pit. They wouldn’t let a firebender live in the palace with the royalty. And then everything he’d endured up to this point would have been for nothing.

“How can I trust you?” Zuko crossed his arms and stole a glance at two girls entering the dining room. They didn’t seem to be listening; rather, they were talking about some sort of dance coming up. _The ball_. Zuko remembered Jin talking about it, the dance they were going to have after the Supreme War Summit. He had almost forgotten. But that didn’t matter right now.

Toph blew out a breath, making the black hair in front of her eyes rise and fall right back into place. “You probably shouldn’t. Trust me, I mean.” She pursed her lips, thinking. “How about I make us even? Tell you a secret that could get me in as much trouble as your secret could get you?”

Zuko cocked an eyebrow. “I’m listening.”

Toph smirked, but there was something uneasy, something vulnerable in it. And then she leaned forward and she said, in low voice, “What if I told you I’m an earthbender?”

“What?” Zuko exclaimed. Toph grinned up at him, her lips a tight, smug line. _An earthbender?_ he thought, incredulous. _No way._ “I don’t believe you.”

Her smile fell. Then—so quickly he almost didn’t see it—her foot moved, slid over the ground, and Zuko was somehow flat on his back.

“Ouch,” he complained as he sat up, rubbing his spine. “Okay, so you weren’t lying. Does Katara know about this?”

“Nope,” she said, and extended a hand down to him. He took it and let the girl help him to his feet with unprecedented strength. Everything about this scenario was odd: This short girl in a dress and fancy hair thingies was an earthbender, and a good one at that. She’d been able to catch him by surprise and, more than that, beat him to the ground in a matter of seconds. Zuko felt his face flush. He was supposed to be a master firebender, incapable of defeat, especially by a little girl. But this little girl seemed to be more than she appeared.

 “I won’t tell your secret if you don’t tell mine,” Zuko bartered.

“Deal,” she said, and shook his hand, which she was still holding. “But you might wanna tell Katara, and soon.”

“Why?” Zuko asked. She was probably the last person in the place, apart from the Emperor, that he wanted to know his secret. Her being aware of his abilities worked _against_ him in all possible ways. If she didn’t turn him over to her father, it would at least put her on guard whenever he was around and seriously limit his opportunities to get rid of her.

“Because,” Toph said, and started walking back to the dining hall. “She’s smart. Sooner or later, she’s going to figure out who I am, but at least she likes me.” She paused at the doors. “I can’t say the same for you.”

 ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ 

_I know._ And Katara did know. She’d put up with far too much of her father’s abuse over the years. She didn’t know why it had taken her so long to realize that she didn’t deserve any of it.

For a while, she thought it was making her stronger. When she was younger, and her father would pin her to the ground or freeze her to the wall for hours on end, she would have to figure a way out of the situation. It _did_ make her smarter, craftier. But there were other ways of teaching such a lesson.

Once, after about a year of lessons, Master Pakku buried her under a mountain of snow with no escape. There wasn’t any air or any light, and every time she tried to move, to bend the snow off of her, it only packed in more tightly. She thought she was going to die. She had begged him to let her out but he told her to figure it out. “Someone won’t always be there to save you,” he had called through the thick snow. “You must learn how to save yourself.”

So she did. She bent a hole through the ice below her, swam through the seawater, and climbed back up through the ice a yard away. Althought she was wet and shivering, Katara felt satisfied. She had been frightened, sure, but Master Pakku had encouraged her and ultimately made her stronger.

He had gushed to her father about how resourceful she was in that proud yet reserved voice he always used, and said how much her bending had improved in that short time he’d been tutoring her. He didn’t take all the credit, of course—that wasn’t his style. He said Katara had natural talent. That Tui and La had truly blessed her.

Two months later, Pakku was gone. No goodbye, nothing. He was there one day and gone the next. Her father said he had business up North, and that Pakku thought Katara had outgrown him, so he had nothing more to teach her. She knew this was a lie, as he had intended to teach her a new attack in a few days and had repeatedly told her that her water whip was too flimsy and needed work. But Katara had taken her father’s word without question.

After that, her father had overseen her training, but he had taken Pakku’s lessons to the extreme. He would drop her in the middle of the ocean and sail away, or freeze her in a block of ice like some sort of criminal. He never helped or encouraged her, and she was left to fend entirely for herself.

Master Pakku had never written an explanation or excuse for leaving so abruptly, and she had never written to ask for one. Those who hurt her had a habit of never apologizing for it.

Which was why Zuko’s apology shocked her so much that she could only croak out, “I know.” She had wanted to ask him to stay a little bit longer, just to talk, but she let him go. It was probably for the best, anyway. Every time she looked at him her gaze dropped to the rudimentary stitches across his throat. She felt an uncomfortable shiver crawl down her back just thinking about them. The wound was red and puffy and probably infected, but she respected his decision not to have her heal it.

She just wished he had decided the other way.

There was a loud thump from down the hall, loud enough that she heard it through her room’s heavy wooden door. For a split second she panicked, thinking it had something to do with Zuko. But he had left a while ago, and besides, why should she care?

Still, she went to look. No one was out there; the darkness stretched from end to end, curving around the corners. Then there was another thump, followed by a loud curse. Katara closed the door behind her and ran to Sokka’s room.

“Sokka?” she called through the door. When there was no answer she turned the handle, expecting to feel some resistance from him on the other side. He hated having her in his room. He hated _anyone_ in his room, actually. But it opened without trouble and she walked in to see Sokka sitting cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by dirty clothes and the splintered remains of what used to be a dresser. His space sword was across the room on the floor. Beside it was a vase, cracked right down the center of the water emblem painted on it.

“Are you okay?” Katara asked, darting forward to stand in front of her brother. His face was resting in his hands and his shoulders were shaking, but he wasn’t crying. He didn’t seem to be hurt or anything. Just mad.

“Why can’t I do this?” he shouted, looking up at her suddenly. His cheeks bloomed with red and a vein popped out on the center his forehead.

“Do what?” Katara asked, confused and wary of his anger.

“This!” he said, waving his arms around.

Katara was getting irritated. She had come here to help him and now she was getting yelled at. “I don’t know what _this_ is!” she imitated with her arms. 

He huffed and strode over to the side of the room to get his sword. “I can’t use this thing!” He shook it at her like it was a broken toy.

“What are you talking about?” Katara cried as he threw it against the wall, making the framed pictures hung there shake dangerously. “You’re a great swordsman!”

“Then why can’t I beat him?” Sokka fell on his bed, face-planting into the fur comforter that covered his bed.

“Who?” Katara asked, though she already knew the answer.

Sokka didn’t look up, but buried his face further. “That fire brat Zuko.”

“I heard you did beat him last night,” she said, ignoring the fire brat slur, “although it wasn’t much of a fair fight.”

“Oh, would you stop defending him?” Sokka sat up, getting so close to her face she could feel the spit hit her face when he talked. “He is a _peasant_. From the Fire Nation. He is my servant. He’s nothing! He just happens to be good with a sword.” He fell back down to the bed and Katara watched him uncertainly.

When they were younger, she and her brother had been much closer. He threw tantrums like this all the time and she used to be able to handle him with some comforting words or a bowl of ice cream. But now there was this distance between them, and Katara was at a loss for words. She didn’t know how to help. Especially since his mother died, Sokka had been irritable all the time, always ready to explode at the slightest spark of anger.

Which was why she didn’t think Zuko was really the problem.

When Reya was alive and living in the palace, she made sure Hakoda spared time for his son. He could get so caught up in Empire business or training Katara or fighting with Kya that he would neglect Sokka, who was often just an innocent bystander in all of the chaos. Right after Reya died, Sokka had clung to Hakoda, like one would expect a child to do after the loss of one parent. And Hakoda had comforted him as best he could. Katara thought they might actually grow closer through their mutual loss. But after the grief wore off for Hakoda, he ignored Sokka more than ever. They saw each other at meals and sometimes in passing, but even Katara could tell that he didn’t want anything to do with his son. She’d like to blame it on Sokka’s resemblance to his mother—their dark brown skin, similar to her own but with more gold undertones, and his spiky hair—that maybe seeing him reminded her father of his loss, but he had never really loved Reya. Everyone knew it.

Kya had once told her the story of how Reya came to be the Emperor’s Mistress: He had met her on a political trip to the Northern Tribes and brought her back to the Empire on a whim. He had been married to Kya for about a year at the time, and Katara was still a baby, but he decided to take Reya as his mistress. Some called it a whirlwind romance. Katara called it her father’s selfishness. Either way, her mother stressed that it wasn’t Reya’s fault. She had become infatuated with the Emperor and being privy to the perks of being his Mistress. But she was young, and did not understand what it meant to be royalty.

Some people in the Empire thought Kya was jealous of her. At the time she was about five years older than the young Northern girl, and many believed that her beauty had hit its peak, that the Emperor was tired of her. Not many people knew, however, that the only thing keeping Reya in the castle was Kya. After Sokka was born—no, after Hakoda learned he was a non-bender—he had wanted to kick them out and send them back to the North. To be sent home by the Emperor would be shameful, and Reya would have likely lived the rest of her life an outcast. Sokka wouldn’t have grown up a prince; he would have been a street urchin.

But Kya threatened to take Katara and go, to leave Hakoda without an heir if he made Reya and her son leave. She threatened to raise Katara as rightful blood-heir to the throne and to usurp him when she came of age. These were weak threats and might not have worked had her mother not held so much influence over Hakoda and the rest of the Empire. Some people just thought she was a jealous, dried-up housewife, but the majority of citizens respected her and would follow her were she to challenge the throne.

This is where their relationship had begun to sour.

Hakoda let Reya and Sokka stay and they lived a comfortable life. Plus, Katara got a little brother and a playmate. Of course, when Katara started her bending training with Pakku and Sokka was limited to weaponry, things had changed between them. They were still half-siblings, and loved each other as such, but there was an element of imbalance, of jealousy. A wedge that had only dug deeper between them as they grew older, and finally split their relationship apart when Reya died months ago.

Katara lay a tentative hand on Sokka’s shoulder. When he didn’t bat it off and order her to leave, she moved it in small circles, trying to comfort him. She had often seen Reya do this when Sokka got upset, and she hoped it would help, rather than anger him.

“You’re a good swordsman,” she insisted. “And one day, when you become the best in the world, this one loss won’t seem like it was ever important.” She heard Sokka sigh into the bed and he rolled over, making Katara draw her hand back. His face was calmer, more composed, and he pushed himself up to a sitting position. Katara saw him eye the mess he had made and the broken vase, and she took his hand.

“Can I help you clean this up?”


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is the next chapter. It's kind of rough, but honestly I'm getting so confused because I've written so far past this that now I'm coming back to edit and post and I don't even remember what I've written haha! But anyway, enjoy! Thank you so much for your feedback, and please if you like this story, share with others :D
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own a:tla or its characters ugh whatever

 

* * *

Katara was in class the next day. Zuko didn't ask anything else about her mysterious absence or her father, and she didn't offer to talk about it. As the days passed, they went about their regular schedules as a Princess and a servant should, and hardly interacted.

Except for the sidelong glances they shared in the classroom, and the kind "hellos" they threw out as they passed each other in the stairwell. Once in a while Katara summoned him if she needed something from Sokka or if she wanted him to help Toph with a chore. He started seeing Katara more often as time went on, and he was disconcertingly fine with it.

Zuko and Toph accompanied Sokka and Katara to their meals, and while they ate with the Emperor and Empress, Zuko and Toph would go up to the servant's dining hall and eat with Jin. Toph didn't mention anything about Zuko's bending, thankfully, and Jin was eager to welcome Toph into their small band of friends. They always sat at the same table with a large man named Tuuk, a middle-aged woman called Karper, and Orchard, a girl about Toph's age. As it turned out, Zuko had been sleeping beside Tuuk for the past few weeks and had never known who he was. He was probably a bit younger than Zuko's father. He had short brown hair that he kept trimmed in a straight line above his eyebrows and was from a fishing region in the Northern Water Kingdom. Karper and Orchard (whose real name Zuko learned was Jai-Lin, but she preferred a name with earthlier tones) were from the Earth Kingdom. Coincidentally, they both lived in different cities near Gaoling, where Toph was from.

There weren't many servants from the Fire Nation, Zuko noticed. There was one older man who, one day when Zuko was in front of him in the dinner line, confided to Zuko that he was a deserter from the Fire Nation Capital City. He'd been drafted into the war when he was a young man and had fled the country to avoid it. He had traveled through the Fire Nation to the Earth Kingdom, and even to the Western Air temple before ending up in the Southern Water Kingdom, where he had voluntarily become a citizen of the Empire.

Zuko had been steaming throughout the story, naturally. All he could think about was how Azula had joined and fought in the war, and had given up her life for something this man had cowardly run from. Zuko forced a smile and ditched his tray in the line to get away from the man. Jin kindly split her food with him, but he hadn't been able to voice his frustrations when she asked without giving too much away with his emotions. So instead he kept it bottled in until the rage eventually died out later that evening.

Zuko had seen the man once or twice since then, but made it a point to avoid him. He was a traitor to his country. He was lucky they were in the Water Empire and under its jurisdiction or he'd have the guy thrown in prison to rot.

At lunch one afternoon, weeks later, Zuko was contemplating the situation absently in the back of his mind. It bothered him for a reason he couldn't quite understand.

_A traitor to his country._ And then, as if a bell had sounded, the words rung with recognition in his mind. It didn't take him long to realize where he had heard that before, and as soon as he did, he wished he could just forget. But the memory was already resurfacing, bringing all the emotions of that day to the forefront of his mind.

"I have to go," he said to the table as he stood up. Jin called after him but he was already out the door, heading down the hallway to the washroom. Luckily there was no one else in there, so he went straight to the sink and splashed his face with freezing water, trying to calm down. He saw the porcelain of the sink glow red as his hands uncontrollably heated it. He was too angry. He started pacing the room, hands clasped behind his back like handcuffs to keep him from lashing out.

It had been so long ago—why did it still affect him like this? The skin on the right side of his face began to throb, then burned with the memory, as if it had just happened yesterday.

"Get a hold of yourself," he hissed to no one, and closed his eyes, trying to control the fire that was threatening to incinerate him from the inside out. It was there, in the dark space behind his eyelids, that he saw the scene play out.

_"_ _You are a traitor to your country. What do you have to say for yourself?" The Fire Lord demanded, his voice spreading across the room like a wave of heat. Uncle Iroh bowed before him on his hands and knees, shackles draped from wrist to wrist, ankle to ankle. He looked up at his brother, the orange fire behind the altar reflected in his golden eyes which, usually bright with vitality, looked dead beneath the flickering glow of the flames._

_"_ _I make no excuse for my actions," he said softly, his voice a croak, hoarse from hours of crying. Zuko had sat outside his uncle's room, listening to his soft sobs turn into cries of pain that reverberated through his war-weathered body._ Defend yourself _, Zuko thought maddeningly. You just lost a son. Blame your grief!_

_But Iroh bowed his head, refusing any explanation that could exempt him from the punishment that was necessary for these kind of infractions: death._

_Zuko had been paying attention in his studies._

_"_ _Very well, brother," Ozai spit. Zuko strained to hear the remorse in his father's voice as he said these next words, but heard none. "Then I have no choice but to sentence you to death."_

_The room packed with nobles and dignitaries went still save for the fire ever-crackling in the background. It sounded like static to Zuko's ears. His mother stiffened beside him, her back straight, but she kept her head down, respectfully. Even Azula looked distraught despite never liking Uncle. She often said that loving Lu Ten made him soft, gave him a weakness. "He is a fool," she said the day he received notice that Lu Ten had been captured by the enemy, the Water Empire. "He is going to do something regretful." And he had._

_Zuko thought he might fight someone or go after Lu Ten himself, both dishonorable for a General of the Fire Nation Army. But instead, he had relinquished his post and refused the throne which Ozai had been temporarily holding in his absence. And then he committed possibly the worst crime he could: he said he was leaving the Fire Nation and giving up his citizenship._

_Had he just gone with no pomp and circumstance, he might have been okay. If he kept his identity a secret and his whereabouts unknown, the Fire Lord might have simply forgotten about his estranged brother. But he had made his denunciation public, therefore sentencing himself._

Zuko looked at the mirror and, in the reflection of his eyes, saw the scythe of fire erupt from his Father's hand to cut Iroh down.

* * *

Katara had expected things to change with Sokka after his meltdown. But days passed and he was still the same goofy, idiotic, conniving brother she had grown up with. The only progress she saw in him was an increased determination to improve his weaponry. He woke in the morning, ate enough for three navy soldiers, and then trained until the next meal, and so on. He was still in charge of the refugee conversion, but he had handed over a majority of that responsibility to one of the lieutenants so he could focus on his training. And they both still had school, but he often arrived late and made up some excuse to leave early.

On one hand, Katara was glad he was finally taking something seriously, something that didn't involve torturing other people (except maybe Zuko, but he hadn't come to her for any healing sessions lately, so she assumed he was fine). On the other hand, she was concerned that he was using his training as a mechanism to avoid their father. Things had been strained between them for the past year, and now their relationship was even worse. Perhaps Sokka feared their father would think him weak if he learned a servant had bested him in a sparring match.

They hardly even spoke at the dinner table anymore. Sokka didn't try to make him laugh with new terrible jokes, and his father didn't inquire about the refugee conversion. In fact, Hakoda seemed rather distracted lately. He and Katara hadn't trained since the last time he'd hurt her. Not that she was complaining, but it was odd behavior for someone who was usually so adamant about her training.

Kya was the only one acting like her normal self, even though she was incredibly busy. The Supreme War Summit was coming up in a little over a week. Kya had taken it upon herself to oversee the comfort of their guests who would be staying in the palace. It was going to be more crowded than it had been in years, possibly since before Katara was born. This was a major step for the Water Empire in the race towards winning this war and finally, _finally_ having peace in the world. Generals from all over the Empire would be gathering to meet with investors and inventors for the war effort, all with the common goal of coming up with a plan to end this war once and for all.

It would be a grand affair, one for the history books, but Katara had her doubts. She'd seen these kinds of gatherings—granted on a smaller scale, but still—and they had the tendency to get out-of-hand. One person particularly gifted with speech could single-handedly convince a whole group of seasoned military officials to do something drastic and dangerous if the mood was right, and especially if alcohol was involved. They would get into this group mindset and make rash decisions without thoroughly examining the possibilities and consequences.

Katara had convinced her father to let her sit in on the meeting in order to prevent such a thing from occurring, but what could her small voice could do against the thundering of a hundred generals?

At any rate, the palace was buzzing with anticipation. Servants, cooks and maids were busy with preparations, and Kya was overseeing them all. Hakoda was surely preoccupied with this as well, as he often retired to his room early in the evening and wouldn't resurface until late the following morning. And with Sokka so obsessed with his training, Katara didn't really know what to do with herself other than worry over other people.

Which is why when she saw Zuko later that day in the hallway, she pulled him aside.

"How are you feeling?" she asked him when they stopped around the corner, aptly hidden from wandering eyes.

He leaned against the wall. "Fine. Why do you ask?"

"Really?" she lifted an eyebrow. "You don't feel sick at all? Unusually hot or irritable?"

"What do you mean?" he asked, but his voice was all wrong. Katara knew she was right.

She pointed at his neck. "Your wound. It's infected."

Zuko looked down as if he could see it under his chin, then back up at her. There was something odd in the shy smile he gave her. Something almost relieved.

"Oh," he said. "I didn't realize."

"I know you said you didn't want me to heal it," she started, leaning forward, "but you should really get that looked at."

Zuko scratched the back of his head, ruffling his hair. It seemed messier than usual, like he'd slept badly the night before or had been grabbing at it. "You're probably right."

Katara reached forward to carefully touch the wound. The skin there was just beginning to show signs of infection and was red around the edges of the stitches. Jin had done a pretty good job, but Zuko evidently hadn't taken proper care of it.

"Come on," she said and, not realizing what she was doing until it was done, took his hand and started walking down the hall. When the brevity of what she had done hit her, she loosened her fingers, intending to let go, but his grip tightened.

_It's just a reflex_ , she told herself. Still, she didn't absolutely _hate_ the rush of electricity that ran up her forearm when he didn't let go.

She brought them to her parent's room. Hopefully Kya was the only one in there, but she couldn't be sure, so Katara dropped Zuko's hand before she rapped twice on the door.

"Coming!" she heard a muffled voice call from inside the room.

"I'd heal you myself," Katara told Zuko, "but I'm best at broken bones and external wounds. My mother is better with infection. It deals with the blood."

Zuko looked stricken. "She's not going to… _bloodbend_ , is she?"

Katara frowned at him. "No, of course not. My mother can't bloodbend. But there is water in blood, and she can manipulate that without actually bending it."

Zuko looked calmer, but there was still an uneasiness to his stance, a worried crease between his eyebrows. Was he afraid of bloodbending?

Katara studied the ground so he couldn't read the emotions on her face. What would he think of her if he knew she could bloodbend? Would he be afraid of _her_? She hated the ability but it was a part of her. A part she constantly fought against, but a part nonetheless. And she would never use it against someone out of hate or malice. She never wanted to use it, period.

Kya opened the door then and froze when she saw the two of them, her expression composed but clearly awaiting an explanation.

"Mother, this is Zuko."

"I believe we've met," Kya replied, but still held out her hand. Zuko shook it once, respectfully. "You work for Sokka." Katara saw the exact moment her gaze fell on his wound and understanding flooded her features.

"Ah, I see." Then she smiled that soft smile that transformed her from regal Water Empress to comforting mother. She stepped out of the doorway and waved a hand.

"Please, come in."

* * *

Kya crossed her arms over her chest. "Is there something you'd like to tell me?"

Zuko stilled. Her demeanor had swiftly turned as icy as the room around them.

Up until then, everything had been going fine. More than fine, actually. The Empress was an amazing healer. Zuko had been hesitant at first; he believed Katara when she said her mother wouldn't bloodbend, but he was doubtful. When she placed her hands over his neck, he felt incredibly vulnerable, the panic rising to the top of his head. And then she started talking, asking about his work and how he liked living in the palace. Zuko said it was fine, that Sokka was a great guy, and he loved his job. He caught Katara's eye as he said this and she smiled, making him chuckle deep in his throat.

"Zuko…" the Empress warned, her hands still hovering over his skin. The water was cool against his neck and bursting with energy. He felt the hair on his arms stand on end, and he suddenly felt a warm calmness overtake him. _So this is waterbending,_ he thought. It wasn't that bad. Of course, this was only healing. Surely this wasn't what they used in war. He'd heard stories from soldiers who had been bloodbent. They said if felt like you suddenly lost control of your entire body, and were forced to watch helplessly as it turned against you.

But Empress Kya's healing was over just as soon as it began, and afterwards, when he touched his throat, it was smooth as silk. She held up an ivory-backed mirror for him to examine the wound, and he was pleased to see nothing there. As he was admiring her work, she asked Katara to leave the room.

He saw Katara pause in the reflection of the mirror and glance at him. He didn't want her to leave, but she obeyed her mother, shooting Zuko one more look over her shoulder as she closed the door behind her.

_Something I'd like to tell her?_ He thought now, looking at the Empress, who was staring levelly at him. Was she talking about Katara? Because it's not like he had _done_ anything. They were just friends. That was all. Unless Katara had said something otherwise to her mother… _No, of course not. That'd be crazy_.

So she must have been talking about something else. The Empress of the Water Empire must be pretty powerful. She probably had eyes and ears everywhere. What if she had found out who he was…whose son he was?

"I-I don't think so," he stuttered, mentally kicking himself for sounding so unsure.

Her eyes shaded. "Zuko, don't lie to me."

He said nothing. He couldn't risk revealing anything further by trying to make up a lie on the spot, and he couldn't tell her the truth. It would ruin everything.

"Bending is a genetic trait," she said. "It's in our blood, and I can feel the fire in yours."

Zuko could hear his heartbeat thundering like a herd of ostrich horse hooves in his ears. Of course she figured it out. Katara had said she was a talented healer, able to manipulate blood. He should have known she would be able to tell.

So was that it then? Would she tell the Emperor and have him thrown in prison or sentenced to death? Was this the moment he had been waiting for to start his attack? If it was going to be him or her, he didn't intend to lose.

The Empress rolled her eyes and lifted her lips, and he saw Katara in her smile. It startled him; not only the resemblance, but that he recognized it. "Relax, Zuko. I won't tell anyone."

"Really?" he blurted, then flushed. He hadn't meant to sound so desperate, but he was surprised. She was the Empress of the Water Empire, for Spirit's sake! And she was going to keep a firebender's secret?

She nodded. "In fact, I have a favor to ask of you."

\---

Jin was unusually cold to him that night at dinner, and he was pretty sure it had something to do with his wound being miraculously healed. Her poor mood spoiled his as well, and he spent the meal glaring at his plate of stale kelp strips. It was the third time that week they'd eaten the same food. Orchard was complaining about it, holding up the dry vegetable and waving it around, telling everyone who would listen that it wasn't naturally grown or organic.

"They're saving all the good food for the banquet," Toph interuppted loudly, spitting kelp all over the table.

"How do you know?" Karper asked, her soft voice barely wafting over to the other side of the table.

Toph shrugged and ate another heaping forkful. "Katara told me."

"That's coming up soon, right?" Zuko asked.

"Little over a week."

"I heard some guards talking about it," Orchard said. "Nobles from all over the Empire will be here, in the palace. There's going to be a ball, too!"

_Yeah,_ Zuko thought tersely, _and a War Summit to plan world domination. But the ball will be_ lots _of fun._

"Do you think we'll get to go?" Karper asked, her quiet voice excited.

"Dunno," Toph said. "I'll be there with Katara."

Zuko looked at her. "Guess that means I'll be there with Sokka." Unless Sokka decided to have another servant accompany him, though he doubted it. Even though the Prince had been a little distant lately, he still complained about his other servants to Zuko, how they were useless and old. Zuko didn't fool himself into thinking he was exempt to the Prince's disgust, but he knew he was preferable over the others.

"Oh great," Jin huffed under her breath. "All four of you. It'll be like a double date."

The other four people at their table fell into uncomfortable silence as Zuko stared, red-cheeked, at Jin. "What are you talking about?" he hissed at her, shocked that she would say something like that out loud. He had guessed she was upset about Katara, but to actually come out and say it in front of everyone was totally out of line.

Jin glared back at him, her hard gaze full of emotion Zuko could only understand too well: She was jealous. Of what, he couldn't say. It's not like he asked to be thrust into this world, into his situation. Besides, there was _nothing_ going on between him and Katara. She was the Empire Princess, the future Empress. He was the Fire Nation Prince and soon-to-be Fire Lord. And he was going to kill her.

His chest constricted. It did that more and more lately. Every time he thought about his mission, something in him pulled back. But it was the right thing to do, and he knew it. It was honorable.

There seemed to be a very faint line forming between right and honorable that became more defined every day.

* * *

Katara was dreading Audiences before she even woke up the next morning. She had dreamt of a never-ending line of angry, yelling people wrapping around her like a serpent; one thousand hands clasped around her throat while their cries made her deaf.

Needless to say, she was in a bad mood when she went up to breakfast. Sokka pounced on this, asking her why she looked like drowned otter pup when she sat down in her chair. Katara didn't even waste energy to glare at him, let alone tell him off. His heart didn't seem to be in it either, because he dropped the insults when she didn't respond. Her father ignored both of them and left the table just as one of the cooks brought Katara a bowl of warm porridge.

He was a nice old man name Loq who had worked at the palace for many, many years. He knew an endless supply of stories from when Hakoda and his brother were growing up, and when Katara was younger and could still get away with it, she would sneak up to the kitchen late at night for a bowl of ice cream and a few of Loq's nostalgic tales. She hadn't done that in years, but Loq still gave her an extra scoop of porridge every morning. She smiled at him before he turned to head back to the kitchen.

As Katara was eating, and Sokka started rambling on about a new sword he wanted to buy, Kya came into the room dressed in her travelling robes.

"Are you going somewhere?" Katara asked.

"Yes, as a matter of fact. I need some things for next week. But I won't be gone long."

"Pity," Sokka muttered, and Katara shot him a look. She knew her mother had heard but chose to ignore him. Loq brought out another bowl and Kya accepted it gratefully, then started discussing the banquet, for which they'd already begun preparing.

Katara was already late for Audiences, so she shoveled down the rest of her breakfast and hurried from the room. As she jogged to the Great Hall, she threw her hair into a bun and smoothed down her shirt. Even if she felt terrible, she needed to look presentable.

By the time she emerged through the curtains and sat down in the throne, there was already a line of people waiting for her. Her father was nowhere to be seen, however.

"Where is the Emperor?" she asked one of the advisors to her left, an old man named Korak, who was looking down his nose at a scroll.

"His Highness will not be joining us, today. I have been instructed to oversee the Audiences in his absence."

She knew what he really meant: _'I'm your babysitter.'_ Katara sighed and pulled a few strands of hair behind her ears. "Very well. We can begin."

\---

_Almost done_ , Katara reminded herself, gazing impatiently at the few people left in the room. They looked just about as tired as she felt; they'd been waiting for hours to see her, so at the least she could give them her full attention.

One man wanted approval to build a large barn out towards the South of the island where he bred arctic cattle. He was one of the capital's most important farmers, a major source of meat for the citizens, so she gave him the go-ahead at once. The woman after him wanted to know why there was suddenly an increased military presence in the city. Katara explained, as calmly as she could, that there was an important meeting coming up soon, and the Emperor wanted to make sure their guests felt as comfortable as they could. Katara left out the part where the soldiers were apprehending everyone believed to be guilty of any sort of criminal activity and throwing them in the Pit. Her father wanted the capital to look and behave its best for the nobles, and nonsense was not to be tolerated.

Katara was just about to collapse from exhaustion when the guards brought forward the last man in line. Her eyelids fluttered, wanting to fall shut and stay that way for approximately 100 years, but she rendered any strength she had remaining and looked down at him. He was tall with a strong build and the kind of face that made you take him seriously before he even started speaking.

"Can I help you, sir?" Katara addressed him as she did all the others.

"Yes," he replied, and bowed on one knee, as was expected. "I have but one quick question, and then I will leave. I would hate to take up any more of your precious time. You have had a long day."

Katara smiled at him gratefully. Not many people acknowledged how hard this job was, especially when she was doing it all by herself. "You may approach."

One of the guards prodded his shoulder with his staff and the man took a step towards Katara.

When he looked up, she knew something was wrong. She saw the contempt in his eyes, the way his body was poised to move, and yet she did nothing. Perhaps her mind was too tired from the day's work, her body too sluggish, but she let him continue forward. And by the time he asked his question, it was too late.

"Who killed Mistress Reya?"

Everything happened in a blur, too fast and panicked for Katara to react.

The man moved, bending an ice dagger at Katara's heart, and then she was thrown to the side. She fell from her chair and hit the icy platform on her shoulder. Her head was swimming, but she opened her eyes in time to see the guards wrestle the man down to the ground before he had a chance to make another attack. Korak was crouched over her, his face full of concern.

"Princess, are you alright?"

Katara nodded, sending a hazy pain through her head, but sat up. The man was being dragged from the room, thrashing and screaming. He wouldn't live to see another day. For a split second Katara wanted to call them back. She wanted to know why she'd been attacked. Obviously it had something to do with Reya, but why attack her? She had no clue. And anyway, he hadn't succeeded, so did he truly deserve to die?

But she remembered her place. She was the future Empress, and this man had made an attempt on her life. The laws were clear and finite. He would die.

"I will send a message to your father," Korak said, gesturing to a servant.

"No!" Katara protested. "Don't let him know, please. I'm fine, see?" Trying to prove her point Katara stood up, only to sway and fall against the throne. "Please, I swear I am fine. You've done your duty, Korak. My father will hear of your loyalty, but he cannot know what happened today." _He cannot know how I was unable to protect myself_. She'd basically be signing her own death sentence.

Reluctantly, the old advisor nodded.

She took his hands. "Thank you."


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! This chapter was originally split in two, but both were fairly short, so instead I clumped them into one mega-chapter. As always, I love hearing from you all so please review and share with your friends! Enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own nothin'.

 

* * *

Zuko didn't hear about what happened in the Great Hall until the next day.

Toph had casually mentioned it in the breakfast line, as if Katara just broke a fingernail or got a bruise, rather than almost died.

"What?" Zuko exclaimed, slamming his tray on the counter.

"Whoa, calm down there Hotpants. She's fine, just a little shaken."

"I'm not surprised considering she could have _died_." Zuko knew he was talking a little too loudly, acting a little too angry. But he couldn't stop hearing the Empress's voice in his mind.

_"_ _Relax Zuko. I won't tell anyone."_

_"_ _Really?"_

_She nodded. "In fact, I have a favor to ask of you."_

_Zuko wasn't sure what to make of this. At this point he would've done almost anything to make sure she kept his secret. Truthfully, he didn't want to have to kill her—she had just healed him. She and Katara were so alike in that way; too compassionate. And every time he looked at the Empress, he saw her daughter. He didn't know exactly what to make of this, or what it meant. But he did know it would be hard to kill the woman standing before him, drying her hands on a white embroidered towel._

_"_ _I want you to watch over Katara."_

_Zuko jerked back. "You want me to_ what _?"_

_A crease formed between Kya's eyebrows. "There may come a time when I am not able to protect her," she said, her voice suddenly thick with emotion. "I need to know that you will be there. That you will protect her in my stead."_

_"_ _I-I don't know…." He had no idea what to say. The whole reason he was here, at the palace, was to kill the royal family—namely Katara, the Emperor's successor. Not to protect her._

_"_ _I've seen the two of you," Kya continued, her eyes softening. "Whatever you believe your purpose is here, I implore you to look inside of yourself, to find the truth. She will need you to."_

The terrible thing was, right after that he had went downstairs to talk to Katara, or Sokka, or _someone_ , but had come across a certain open door that was never open. Despite it belonging to the most important inhabitant of the palace—or perhaps because of it—the door was very plain: simply carved wood and a gold handle. But he knew the two people who lived there. One of them was upstairs in a training room, healing or cleaning the dirty water she'd used to heal him. The other one?

Zuko's training kicked in. After looking up and down the hall, he pressed his ear against the open door. No voices or sounds indicated that anyone was in there, so he nudged it with his foot. It creaked further open, and he froze. But the room was dark, and silent, and so, like he had practiced a thousand times, he slid between the narrow crack between the edge of the door and its frame and clung to the wall like a spider-slug.

He was in the Emperor's chambers.

As it turns out, no one was in there. A maid or someone must have left the door open by accident. _A pretty major accident_ , he thought. He got a good look at the place. It wasn't too different from Katara's chambers. There was one main room with a giant bed and dresser, as well as a bathroom off to the right. But there was another room with a slightly smaller bed and dresser to the left that smelled unmistakably of the Empress's perfume.

The Emperor and Empress were not sleeping in the same bed.

Zuko didn't know what this meant. From what he had gathered, both in his studies and by word-of-mouth, this was not a normal Water Empire custom. The Emperor and Empress always shared a bed. It was a symbol of the unity of the nation.

Distantly, he wondered if Katara knew.

He left the room soon after, returning the door to its slightly ajar state. So this hadn't been the right moment. Next time he was determined he would complete his mission.

Only as Zuko was walking up the stairs did the reality of it all really hit him. Had the Emperor been in his bed, could he have done it? Could he have walked up to him and sliced his throat? Could he have taken his life right there and then?

He was the Emperor of the Water Empire. He was a tyrant and a murderer.

He was also Katara's father. A terrible one, but her father nonetheless.

He was supposed to kill her too.

_Whatever you believe your purpose is here, I implore you to look inside of yourself, to find the truth. She will need you to._

And now, here he was in Katara's room, lying on her bed, not knowing whether he was waiting for her because of what Kya had made him promise, or because he was genuinely concerned about what happened to her yesterday, or because he was going to kill her as soon as she walked through the door.

And then he sighed, because there was no way the latter was going to happen. At least not today.

He sat up when he heard the doorknob rattle. Katara walked through the door, hair disheveled, bags under her eyes. Her body sagged with fatigue and when she saw Zuko sitting there, she didn't even look surprised.

"Hi," she said, and closed the door.

"Hi." He had seen her only a few hours ago at her and Sokka's lesson, and though she looked tired, she'd been significantly more energetic. Now she was just burnt out. He hadn't gotten the chance to talk to her then because Sokka demanded Zuko give him a footrub immediately after his lesson— "A matter of life and death. For you, of course"—so he didn't have a choice.

Finally they were alone, and he moved over to give her room. "How are you? I heard about what happened yesterday."

She flung herself onto the bed. "Good news travels fast."

"Are you okay?" Zuko asked, leaning towards her. Her eyes fluttered open and focused on him. She searched his face for what seemed like an eternity before smirking.

"Zuko, we've got to stop doing this."

He frowned. What was 'this'? Caring about her? _Believe me,_ he thought, _I would love to stop. But apparently I hate myself, because I can't._ "What do you mean?"

She chuckled tiredly. "This whole getting hurt thing. You get hurt and come to me, then I get hurt and you make sure I'm okay. It's kind of pathetic, and I'm pretty sure it's toxic for a friendship."

That make Zuko smile. "I agree. Let's switch it up a bit."

She pitched an eyebrow. "How?"

"What do you guys do for fun around here?"

* * *

Katara levelled a steady look at him. "Fun?"

He rolled his eyes and gave her a tired smile. "Yeah, _fun_. Even someone as boring and uptight as you must have had fun _once_ in your life."

Katara stiffened. "I've had fun, Zuko. But I have more important things to worry about."

She strode over to the desk in the corner and sat down in front of the scroll she'd been writing on for the past few days. It had begun as an assignment for class—they had to translate a portion of an ancient scroll—but she had taken it upon herself to finish the whole thing. It was a lot of work and very time-consuming, but it was mindless. It helped pass the time. And because she was so engrossed in writing, she didn't have much room left to think about everything that was happening around her. Although visions of ice darts and her father's snarling face broke through every once in a while.

Zuko laughed from behind her and she huffed. Her brush moved more harshly now, and the strokes on the paper were thicker, rough. Where did he get off on talking to her like this? She knew she should put an end to it. It was stupid and dangerous, and if someone heard, they might assume things.

"Come on, Katara. What was your favorite thing to do as a kid? I _know_ you didn't stay inside, copying old poems all day."

Her brush stilled as a memory flashed across the paper. She could see it now, like a moving picture in her mind: she and Sokka as children, a white hill, going impossibly fast, flying….

"Well…."

She felt him hover over her shoulder. " _Well_?"

"Our mothers did used to take us penguin sledding when we were kids."

He inhaled as if he were going to say something, but paused. When she looked at him, Katara saw a confused expression on Zuko's face.

"Mothers? As in, more than one?"

Katara cursed herself. She hadn't meant to let that detail slide.

She hadn't spoken of Reya in so long, and today had been the first time her name had been uttered within the palace walls for months. Most people knew about Reya, especially those who had been employed for years. But ever since her passing, the Emperor had insisted that her memory be just that—a memory. No one was supposed to talk about her. It was hard on Sokka; he hadn't had the chance to mourn properly. And now that she had been virtually erased from the palace—all her pictures taken down, her room emptied, her name prohibited—it was like she was a ghost. Worse—like she'd never existed at all.

She sighed softly and nodded. "Yes. Sokka and I share the same father, but have different mothers. His mother, Reya, passed only months ago."

There was a beat of silence, and when Katara looked at Zuko, his head had dropped. "Oh. I didn't know."

No, she wouldn't have expected him to know.

At times like this Katara felt sorry for her half-brother. Sure, he'd been a conniving jerk before his mother's death, but he really started to become the monster after she was gone. He hid his pain beneath his cleverness and ruthless jokes. Pain from losing his mother; pain from losing the throne he never had in the first place. He was technically second-in-line for the Water Empire crown, but he was a bastard; in the eyes of the Empire citizens, he was barely more fit to rule than Katara. Being a non-bender ruined any chance he had of obtaining power.

It was Kya's graciousness that allowed him to keep living in the castle after Reya was gone. And even though Hakoda hated letting Kya manipulate him like that, he did allow Sokka to stay. Katara hated her father for many things, but for this one matter she did not. In his own way, allowing Sokka to stay and grow up a Prince was her father's show of kindness. Of love. Katara still had yet to figure out how he loved her. Perhaps by not killing her as a baby. Maybe that was all the love she would ever get from him.

"So what's penguin sledding?"

Zuko pulled her out of her thoughts with that one question, and all the happy memories came falling back like an avalanche. She recalled the sharp chill of snow slipping in-between her parka and skin; the rush of sliding down the mountain on the back of the giant penguins that lived outside the city walls; the taste of the salty sea breeze mixed with the drifting flakes of snow that would fly into her mouth as she ran through the open air.

"The name is kind of self-explanatory."

Zuko chuckled and nudged her with his elbow. It made her mess up the scroll, but she found that she didn't really care.

And then she saw the glint in his eye, the dangerous, exhilarating look that she was beginning to recognize: he had a plan. She knew what he was about to say before he opened his mouth.

"I think I really need to see it to understand."

….

"I cannot believe you talked me into doing this," Katara hissed at him as they crouched behind a snow drift, close enough to each other that she could feel the heat emanating from beneath his parka.

"It wasn't that hard."

Katara playfully slapped him on the shoulder, but its effect was lost between layers of pelt and fabric. Zuko made a little motion with his hand and they bolted from the drift towards the guard station that marked the end of palace grounds and the beginning of the city. As they crept along the wall Katara heard voices from inside the hut and she held a gloved finger to her lips. Zuko nodded and they moved more slowly and breathed more softly until they were out of earshot. From there all they had to do was stick to back roads. The city itself was large, but the layout was uniform, like a grid. They made a straight shot for the city limits and Katara bent a hole in the wall just large enough for them to slip out of.

Zuko made a quiet noise of excitement as soon as the hole was filled and Katara had to admit she felt excited too. It seemed like ages since she'd snuck out with Toph. And even then she had told the guards where they were going. This time, no one knew where she was or who she was with. The thrill of it all was intoxicating.

The air seemed fresher, the snow whiter when she wasn't bound by her title. Now all they had to do was get back without being caught. Just the thought made her throat dry and chest clench, but when Zuko grabbed her arm and pulled her towards the Cliffside, she couldn't help but feel a little warmer inside.

Katara led them to the East where she knew a drop-off led to a valley in which a raft of penguins lived. Sure enough, when they peered over the edge to the ground below, they saw at least fifty giant penguins milling about without a care in the world. Zuko looked at her with wide eyes, even the scarred one, and a child-like smile.

"It's like you've never seen penguins before," Katara laughed.

"I haven't!"

_Right_ , she thought. _Stupid._ Of course he wouldn't have seen penguins before. They couldn't survive in the Fire Nation. They needed the colder climate. Zuko didn't comment on her ignorance, though. He barreled down the side of the cliff, slipping every so often on a loose bit of snow, and she followed.

"So what did _you_ do for fun as a kid?" she called after him, slightly out-of-breath.

There was no one else around, and the wind was quieter down here, so she could hear him when he replied, "Oh you know, the usual."

"No, I actually don't know." The usual for a Fire Nation peasant was undoubtedly different from that of a Water Empire royal.

Zuko stopped suddenly and turned around. He held out a hand and Katara looked down to see a small mound of snow hovering above a good three-foot drop. He was offering to help her.

She took his hand and tried to ignore the gentle spark of electricity that shot down her fingertips. He laughed as she jumped and landed unsteadily on the snow below.

"My sister and I did what all kids did—went to war council meetings and had tea with the Earth King."

"Liar!" she exclaimed and bent a snowball into his face. He shouted, half-mad half-joking as he wiped the moisture from his eyes. The snow had stopped falling and she could see him more clearly now. Even though it was midday it was still pretty cold, and Zuko's nose and the tips of his ears had turned bright red. But his eyes were bright and alive. She wondered if she looked like that, if the cold made her look alive. She didn't often _feel_ alive, but today was the closest she had been in a while.

Zuko's cheeks flushed and he ducked his head. "You're right, I'm lying. Most of the time my sister and I fought with each other or our parents. But we had good times, too, playing with the turtleducks and visiting volcanoes and—"

"Wait," Katara interrupted as they started walking again. "Turtleducks? What are those?" She'd never heard of such a thing.

"Oh right," he mused, "I guess it's too cold here. They're the cutest things, but they have a nasty bite. I'll show you someday." He said this with such conviction, Katara actually stopped for a moment. He must have realized his mistake too, because she could see him flinch as his words sunk in. "I-I mean, if you ever go to the Fire Nation, you'll have to, you know, keep an eye out for them." He didn't turn around, but Katara could hear the embarrassment in his voice.

"Right. I knew what you meant," she said, trying to diffuse the sudden awkwardness that had fallen over them.

_I'll show you someday…if only that were possible._ Not that she wanted him _specifically_ to show her. That'd be silly. No, she only wished to see the turtleducks he spoke of at some point in the future, preferably when she wasn't invading the country. Of course that's what she meant. And probably what he meant too.

By then they'd reached the bottom of the cliff. The penguins hadn't noticed them yet, and they crept around the group like they were hiding from the guards again. Katara approached the nearest penguin and, in one fluid motion, hopped onto its back. It bucked and tried to shake her off, but she held on tightly, laughing like a madman. She heard Zuko laugh too and she was glad the tension between them was gone. Before she knew it he had clambered onto his own penguin and was struggling to stay on. She squeezed the sides of her penguin and it took off, sliding on its stomach. She used her bending to smooth out the ice in front of them and their speed doubled, sending them hurtling towards a hill. Zuko was shouting behind her but she couldn't make out the words, and besides, she didn't care. She was suddenly transported 10 years into the past. She was a child again, and everything felt like it would be okay.

She screamed as they flew off the hill.

Only air lingered between her body and the ground. She was flying. Katara sat up and lifted her hands to the sky. She closed her eyes and felt the Southern sun on her lips, threaded through her hair, in the smooth space between her eyes. She could almost hear her mother cheering her on, Sokka calling her a cheater, her father telling her to slow down.

Or maybe that was Zuko.

Sure enough, when she opened her eyes she saw the ground hurtling towards her a lot faster than she had expected. She barely had enough time to bend a stream of water up to cradle their landing, and even then she tumbled off her penguin as soon as they hit the ground.

She lay there for a minute, in a daze, just staring at the sky. Up there, she'd honestly thought that she was 8 again. For just a moment suspended in time, she'd forgotten that everything had changed.

* * *

"Katara, slow down!" Zuko shouted, watching Katara become a blur in the distance. Although he'd never been penguin sledding before, and wasn't that good at it, it wasn't difficult to understand. Even he could tell that she was going way too fast.

As he watched helplessly, she caught the snowdrift, rising like a bird taking flight, and then she was gone, hidden beyond the white edge of the cliff. Suddenly Zuko was moving faster, hearing Kya's voice again, thinking foolishly that he could catch up, that he could still stop her, somehow….

And then he cursed out loud because how stupid could he get? Now _he_ was running like a railcar towards the cliff and he didn't know how to stop and he was getting closer and closer and then he was airborne, screaming like a child and praying that his death would be mercifully swift.

Instead, he landed in a cloud.

A fluffy pile of pure white snow appeared beneath him and both Zuko and his penguin, now separated, landed right in the middle of it. He sunk down a few feet but the light blue sky still hovered overhead through the hole his body had made in the snow. And then Katara appeared above him and held out a hand.

"I'm so sorry, Zuko! Here, let me help you up."

Zuko took her hand and she pulled him up. The snow fell off of him like polar bear dog shedding its winter coat. Katara grabbed his other hand and yanked to get him out of the snow bank she had made, but Zuko tripped, his foot still stuck, and he fell towards her. His weight pulled them both to the ground and Zuko landed half on top of Katara, pushing her into the ground. Her hood fell back and her dark hair melted onto the pale snow like chocolate. He wasn't sure what had knocked the breath out of him—the fall or the sight of her.

_What the hell?!_

Why was he thinking stuff like that? What had possibly possessed him to think that way?

But obviously he wasn't the only one caught off-guard. Katara was blushing furiously, a dark rose color painting her cheeks and forehead. If her eyes weren't so bright and wild he might have thought it was just the cold. But she was staring at him like he had confessed some sort of secret.

He wondered if maybe he had.

Finally, the voice in the back of his head that always told him when he was acting like an idiot ordered him to get up. He obeyed and helped pull Katara to her feet. She seemed to find her voice again, because she wouldn't shut up.

"I'm so sorry, Zuko. I wasn't paying attention to the hill, and I was going way too fast. We should have found a safer trail, and I should have taught you how to stop, and—"

She looked so nervous that Zuko actually had to laugh. She stopped talking then, and her expression shifted from apologetic to annoyance in the empty space between a breath.

"Why are you laughing?"

This only made Zuko laugh harder. He was either being a jerk or a moron, one of the two, but he couldn't tell which, and at this point, he couldn't really stop. He doubled over which was pretty hard to do wearing six layers. The icy air scratched at his throat as he tried to manage a breath in between raspy laughs, and his eyes started to water. For a few moments Katara just glared at him, but then her façade cracked and she was smiling. Then she was giggling. Then she was laughing along with him, clutching her stomach and covering her mouth.

They both stopped when she snorted.

Zuko stared at her, wide-eyed, as she flushed bright red.

"Did you just…snort?"

"Shut up!" she shouted, her voice tinged with embarrassment and panic. But when Zuko started laughing again, she started laughing too. And snorting. Honestly, it was pretty cute. Not that he would ever tell her that. Or anyone. For anyone else he knew it would be weird, or gross, but it just fit Katara. He had a sneaking suspicion that she didn't get the chance to laugh—like, _really_ laugh—very often, and who was he to deny her such a simple pleasure?

"It's—not—that—funny!" Katara managed to choke out between thrusts of laughter.

"It's pretty funny," Zuko shot back pathetically, earning himself a snowball to the shoulder. "Hey!" he shouted, and turned his back to another one coming for his face. He grabbed a handful of snow to chuck back at the Princess who had already begun making more. Of course when it got close to her she simply bent it back at him, but it distracted her long enough for Zuko to get behind a snow drift.

She definitely had the upper hand this time, being a waterbender surrounded by water. He wondered at how different this fight would be if he could use his bending too. He'd like to think it wouldn't be as difficult a fight. But as he got hit in the face for the third time, he wasn't so sure.

….

They returned to the palace as the sun was setting below the horizon, painting the sky a soft shade of pink. Zuko hesitated just for a moment before they snuck back in, drinking in the evening sun. It had been so long since he'd had the privilege to stand before it freely, even longer since he'd been able to use it to fuel his bending. It thrummed excitedly just under his skin and he had the near-irresistible urge to bend, just a little. Just to feel a flame in the palm of his hand. But Katara was standing right behind him holding the hole in the wall open for him.

"Zuko?" she asked, her voice soft but still brimming with the gaiety they'd both felt that day.

"I'm coming." Closing his eyes, he took one deep, final breath before following her back into the palace.

Zuko escorted Katara to her room, letting her lead him down a passage that he'd never been before.

"This place is full of secrets," she told him when he asked about it, a mischievous look on her face. "I'll tell you all about them someday."

It was precisely what he needed: Unlimited access, unique knowledge to give him the upper-hand. If he played his cards right, she would reveal everything he needed to complete his mission.

But it wasn't what he wanted.

He realized this with disheartening fervor as she reached back to take his hand and led him down another dark pathway, barely illuminated by the faint blue glow at the end of it. Just a flame in the palm of his hand. That's all it would take for her to realize what he was. She didn't have to know _who._ He couldn't share all of his secrets, but he didn't have to keep all of them in, either.

_"Whatever you believe your purpose is here, I implore you to look inside of yourself, to find the truth. She will need you to."_ At the time, he didn't understand what the Empress meant, or why. He still didn't. But he did understand that things were changing. Things he used to think were true were being proved false. What he used to think was right was beginning to feel wrong.

They finally reached Katara's room and she went in, pausing at the threshold. "I had fun today," she said, holding the door open.

Zuko leaned against the wall. "Me too."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

They both stood still, watching each other, wanting something neither of them could identify. Zuko didn't want to leave. He thought maybe he could stand right there all night into the morning and he'd be perfectly content.

Katara smiled up at him, her eyes sparkling. "See you tomorrow, Fire Brat."

Zuko reached out and pulled on a loose strand of her hair. "Count on it, Princess."

* * *

Katara stumbled into her room, feeling like she'd drunk a whole barrel of cactus juice, and fell against the closed door. She could feel the dorky smile stretch across her face as if her skin were made of elastic. When was the last time she had _really_ smiled like this?

It was then that she realized she wasn't alone.

At first she thought it was her father, and her heart began to race. Her blood boiled in her veins as her head went cold with fear. She'd been found out.

But when Toph emerged from the washroom Katara slumped to the floor with relief.

"Welcome back, Sugar Queen."

"Toph," Katara breathed, her face buried in her hands. They were shaking.

"Geez, what's got your royal panties in a bunch?"

Katara lifted her face just enough to shoot Toph a dirty look, even though she knew she couldn't see it. "I thought you were my father."

Toph laughed and walked to Katara's bed. She threw herself on it and spread out as if she owned the place. "Ha! Trust me, sweetness, I got nothing in common with your dad. If I were him, I'd have you under lock and key 24/7. Mr. Hothead's gonna get you in trouble one of these days."

"What?" Katara said. She sat up straight against the door, suddenly alert. Was she talking about Zuko?

"Don't try to deny it, _Princess,_ " she said in a deep voice, presumably supposed to sound like Zuko. "I know you like him."

"No I don't! What are you talking about?" Katara was usually a better liar than this. But her voice was too high and the inflection was all wrong. Toph had managed to catch her off-guard.

"You're lying. You like him," Toph sang with a smug smile on her face. Her black, stringy hair hung in front of her eyes, but Katara knew they'd be shining with the knowledge that she was right. She didn't know how it happened, but she wouldn't lie to herself. Not anymore, about anything.

Toph was right.

Still, she thought she'd done a pretty good job of hiding it. "How would you know?"

Toph shrugged and fell back to the bed. "I just do."

Katara wasn't very good at lying, but she was excellent at telling when other people were. Maybe Toph wasn't exactly lying, but she wasn't telling the truth either. But Katara couldn't waste time on figuring out what that was. She had to make sure Toph wasn't going to tell anyone.

She crawled over to the bed and knelt in front of the other girl. To a bystander it might look like she was begging. But Princesses don't beg.

"You cannot tell anyone, Toph. Promise me."

Toph sat up so they were eye-level, and Katara peered at her imploringly, hoping she'd somehow understand. She _had_ to understand. If anyone found out about her and Zuko…well, it wouldn't be good for either of them. Toph simply stared back with an empty expression, contemplating. She had a pretty good poker face.

Finally, her eyebrows rose. "Tell anyone what?"

A sigh escaped from Katara's lips and her shoulders sagged as if a weight had melted off of them. "Thank you."

"But what's in it for me?"

Katara pulled back. "What do you want?" At this point she would probably give the girl anything in the entire world, but she didn't want to seem desperate. Toph stood up and walked the perimeter of the room, rubbing her chin as if considering her options. Although, knowing Toph, she probably already knew exactly what she wanted. Katara sat on her bed and started taking off her wet clothes. Her boots were soaked from earlier and her gloves were still caked with snow. She probably should have ditched the clothes before they came back to the palace, but she hadn't been thinking straight. Or at all. If she _had_ been thinking, she would not have gone out with Zuko in the first place.

But then the day flashed before her eyes, and she realized that if she had the opportunity to do everything again, she wouldn't change a thing.

Katara stripped down to her undergarments and bent the moisture out of her clothing as Toph returned to the bed, still thinking. Finally, after Katara had hung up her clothes by the door, Toph announced her compromise.

"Alright, here's the deal Sugar Queen. I won't tell anyone about Hotpants if you help me with a friend."

Katara's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean, 'help you with a friend'?"

"A friend of mine was shipped here with the refugees from Omashu. I need to see him, except that he works outside the palace, in the capital."

Katara gave her a level look. The request was fairly simple and straightforward. It wouldn't be too weird for Katara to take a trip into the city with one of her handmaidens; they'd already done it once before. No one would suspect anything.

But why did she need to see this 'friend'? How did she even know that he had come here in the first place? Distant alarms were going off in the back of Katara's mind, but she ignored them. Even if the circumstances were strange, it was a small price to pay for her secret to be kept.

Katara walked to the girl. She took her hand and shook it once.

"Deal."


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! I'm actually updating on time this week :p This is another mega-chapter, so I hope you enjoy it. Please please PLEASE comment/review/let me know what you think! I LOVE hearing from you all (seriously, it makes me so happy) :D 
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own any avatar characters (as heartbreaking as that is for me)

 

Zuko couldn’t sleep at all that night.

Earlier, he’d spent the evening roaming the corridors without purpose, just reflecting on the day. It had been the first time since he’d left home that he felt truly, genuinely _happy_. Although the circumstance was clouded with secrets and dishonesty, for those few hours Zuko had felt entirely, euphorically free. And Katara had been the key to that. She might have even been the reason for it, or at least part of the reason.

As he walked he didn’t see the icy walls or the dark, dank corridors; he saw her eyes, bright, alive, blue like the sky. Sokka’s eyes, Zuko had noticed, were also blue. But they were like the ocean, more black than blue, and stormy. His eyes held the darkness while his sister’s held the sun and the stars and everything in between.

_Half-sister_ , Zuko mentally corrected himself. Zuko felt a kind of pride that Katara trusted him enough to share such sensitive information. It completely explained the Prince’s attitude towards the Empress. And even if Zuko didn’t agree with it, he could understand where Sokka was coming from. Zuko hadn’t lost a mother, but he had lost a sister and basically his Uncle. He had experienced loss, and he knew how much it could mess you up. Plus, Mistress Reya’s death had only been months ago. He wasn’t surprised by the Prince’s cruel and violent tendencies, nor his obsession with sparring. He had to put his anger into _something_.

Zuko had been the same way. After Azula died, Zuko undertook an unhealthy dedication to his training. He went through teachers as quickly as he went through shoes (his spurts of frustration showed up at the most inconvenient of times, often manifesting themselves in uncontrollable explosions of fire) and when he wasn’t sleeping or eating he was practicing. He was privately mentored by his father in princely matters, but they both knew it wouldn’t matter if they couldn’t end this war.

So Zuko had hatched this mission and worked every single day to set it in motion.

And now he was willing to give it up for the very person it targeted.

This is what kept him up at night.

He hadn’t made a conscious decision to abandon the mission. He still had to stop the Water Empire; he had to stop this war before more innocent people lost their lives. But something had to change, because he knew with renewed certainty that he couldn’t go through with killing her.

What would his father say?

_You’re weak, Zuko. You’ve failed me, your sister, and your nation._ He would probably be disowned.

His mother would be more understanding. She once confided in Zuko that before she was brought to marry Ozai, she had been in love with a boy from her village. When she was chosen to become Fire Lady, she wanted to refuse for her lover’s sake. But when his life was threatened, she made the decision to desert him to join Ozai in marriage. “But I learned to love and respect him,” she told Zuko. “Life has a funny way of showing you what you really need, even if it isn’t what you want.”

Ursa was the wisest, most kind-hearted person he knew, and in a way, the Empress reminded him of her. Kya obviously loved Katara passionately if she was willing to make a deal with a firebender, the sworn enemy of her own country, just for her daughter’s protection.

Zuko wondered if his mother would do the same for him. He knew she loved all of her children and would protect them to the ends of the earth, but she was also protective of her country and her people. Even if it wasn’t the life she would have chosen for herself, she had adopted it wholly. Zuko couldn’t imagine her in some little town, the wife of a farmer or blacksmith. She belonged in a throne, ruling a country, with his father by her side.

The image of his mother sitting on the throne shifted subtly in his mind. No longer was she dressed in long red robes, surrounded by fire, but sheathed in blue armor, a fortress of ice around her. Kya had the same look of determination on her face, of regality. But then she smiled, and the image shifted again, and Katara was watching him, her eyes sparkling as they’d done that day, and Zuko realized that he couldn’t see her anywhere else, either. She was born to rule, whether or not her people believed it.

Zuko rolled over on his pallet. How could he take the throne from her? Even if he figured out a way to spare her life, the Water Empire could not be allowed to continue. It would have to be disbanded, and that would destroy her. He remembered sitting in her room, the patriotism subtle but strong, unyielding in the emblems that decorated her door and the shades of blue fabric that draped over her bed and floor. Like her mother and his, she loved her country. She wouldn’t give it up. Zuko wouldn’t give his up, either. How would this ever work?

Just then there was a movement from the pallet next to his, and Jin turned to face him, her eyes sleepy slits. “Zuko? Are you awake?”

“Yeah, sorry,” he apologized, though he didn’t know what for.

One of her hands slithered out from under her blanket and threaded through his. She rubbed the back of his hand with her thumb, and Zuko felt a mix of comfort and uneasiness as she smiled at him.

“Go to sleep. Whatever you’re worrying about can dealt with tomorrow.”

Zuko tried to smile back. “You’re right.”

Her eyes closed and, in a few moments, her lips slackened with sleep. But their fingers remained intertwined, and Zuko watched them feeling inexplicably guilty, as if her skin would leave a permanent mark on his.

So in the very last moment before he drifted to unconsciousness, he pulled away and tucked his arms around him. Granted, it was a little lonlier this way, but oddly enough he felt pleased with himself, as if he had finally made his decision.

 

* * *

 

Katara and Toph were almost late to their lesson the next day, a fact that Sokka took upon himself to point out to Master Udan loudly and repeatedly. Katara kept her head down as she entered the room and sat at her desk, and avoided looking up for the first few minutes of class. She didn’t know what to do about Zuko. She could physically feel him sitting there, only a few feet behind her, and she felt as if her feelings were written plainly on her face.

She didn’t know where they stood. The only thing she knew with certainty was how she felt about him, and about them, and honestly, it scared her. Not only the strength of her feelings, but also what they meant; the implications, the consequences if anyone found out. It was insanely dangerous, and she knew she was being incredibly selfish for even entertaining the idea of telling Zuko how she felt.

But she couldn’t help it. It was different from Loka, the servant who had left her cold, disappearing without any explanation. If anything that was a meaningless fling, a child’s curiosity that had gotten the better of her. Sure, she had liked him; he had said pretty things to her and gave her attention she didn’t get from anyone else. But had she loved him? No.

Not saying that she loved Zuko. Because she didn’t.

At least, she didn’t right now.

She glanced behind her, trying to disguise it at a general survey of the room, only to find that Zuko was watching her. His lips spread into a half-grin and she tried to fight her own smile tugging at the side of her mouth.

_But I think I could. Love him._

Someone coughed pointedly, and Katara looked at Toph, who was staring her way with wide eyes, as if to say, _Obvious, much?_

She tried to focus on her work for the remainder of their lesson, but it was difficult. Master Udan was talking about geography of the South pole, a topic she was already familiar with, so she let her mind wander, acutely aware of Zuko’s eyes on her back the entire time.

 

As they left the room after Master Udan dismissed them for the day, Katara caught up with Zuko, who was trailing Sokka. She tugged on his shirt sleeve and he stopped, giving her an amused look.

“Can I help you, your Highness?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact you can,” she replied, grinning at his formal address. “I have some furniture in my room that needs to be moved, and I request your assistance.”

“I am happy to oblige.”

“Can I help?” Toph asked, suddenly appearing beside them. Both of them glanced down at her, and Katara could hear the fake innocence in her voice. She knew what they were doing, and this was either her way of giving them a warning or trying to be a nuisance, just for fun.

“Uh, that’s okay Toph, I think we can—”

“I can help, too,” another voice chimed in, and Sokka, already halfway down the hall, turned around. “I’m probably stronger than Zuko, anyway.”

Katara sighed and shot Toph a nasty glare. The girl smirked up at her, pleased with her performance.

“I really don’t think that’s necessary, but thanks. Both of you.”

Toph shrugged and walked towards the staircase.

Sokka followed after her. “Suit yourself, but don’t come crying to me when you realize you need my help, because I’ll be busy. Doing—something. Something tough and manly.” Even Sokka must have realized how stupid he sounded, because he blushed and hurried down the hall.

Only when he was out of earshot did Katara look up at Zuko. “Sorry about that. Toph’s kind of a pain sometimes.”

Zuko shrugged. “Yeah, well—wait.” A wrinkle formed between his eyebrows. “Does she—does Toph— _know?_ About us, I mean.”

“What about us?” Katara asked, half-teasing, half-wondering what he thought ‘us’ actually meant. The tips of his ears bloomed red and he looked down at his feet.

“Just, you know, that we were out yesterday. Outside the palace. Alone. That’s all I mean, I guess.”

“Oh, right,” Katara said, not sure whether or not he was saying what he wanted to say. Or what _she_ wanted him to say. “Yes, she knows about that. She was in my room when we got back, waiting for me.”

Zuko’s good eye widened at this, but Katara shook her head. “It’s fine. I trust her.”

He seemed appeased by this, so Katara nudged him with her shoulder and they started towards the stairs. They kept up a stream of chatter about meaningless things, like Master Udan’s lesson, and Sokka’s recent order for a new space sword.

“30 inches?” Zuko laughed when she told him how big it was going to be. “Is he even going to be able to lift that?”

Katara suppressed a laugh, her shoulders shaking. “Probably not. I’m thinking he’s compensating for something, if you know what I mean.”

Zuko sighed. “You’re not wrong.” When Katara looked at him, not quite sure what to make of this, he shrugged. “I’ve dressed the guy like, 20 times. I’ve seen things.”

Katara shuddered. “I really didn’t need to know that. He’s my brother, for Spirit’s sakes!”

“Half-brother,” Zuko commented as she turned the knob to her room.

“True.”

Katara entered first then held the door open for Zuko who walked in hesitantly, hands in his pockets. He looked around as if he were seeing it for the first time, like he hadn’t been in there twice before.

“I promise nothing’s changed since yesterday,” Katara joked.

“I know it’s just…well, this is the first time you actually invited me in here. The other times your maid let me in—what’s her name?”

“Ani.”

“Ani, right.” He walked over to her dresser and rifled through the various jewelry boxes and combs sitting on top of it. “You might want to tell her not to let strangers into your room anymore. You never know who can be dangerous.”

Katara rolled her eyes. “I think I can handle myself. But I’ll keep that in mind.” _I actually_ should _have a talk with her_ , Katara thought. The woman was nice and always did her job well, but she was almost _too_ nice. She had a certain reputation around the castle, and many of Katara’s other servants said she was a bit naïve. But for all her questionable characteristics, she was kind, and had never given Katara reason to believe she couldn’t be trusted. Still, she made a mental note to talk to her about boundaries.

Speaking of, Zuko didn’t seem to have trouble crossing hers, because when Katara turned around she saw him looking through her armoire.

“Hey!” she said. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Why do you have so many pairs of socks?” Zuko asked, holding up a particularly ratty pair of brown woolen ones.

Katara stalked over and grabbed them from him, trying to keep the embarrassment off her face. At least he hadn’t opened the drawer below—there were private things in there she wasn’t comfortable with him seeing, much less touching. “It gets cold here in the winter. Besides, I don’t think I gave you permission to go through my things!” She stuffed them back into the overflowing drawer—she really did have a lot of socks—and shut it, having to shove to get it closed. Zuko laughed at her, and had their tiff been about anything other than socks, she might have gotten mad. But as it was she started laughing too, and they both cracked up, clutching their stomachs, and stumbled over to her bed where they both collapsed in a pile of lingering giggles.

Katara rolled her head to the side, looking at Zuko’s profile. In the shimmering light of the candles in her room, his scar seemed to blend into the shadows, almost disappearing into her dark blue bedspread. Her hand twitched, longing to reach out and touch the angry burgundy skin, but she held it back. Zuko turned his head towards her, and she realized that they were entirely too close. She could feel his warm breaths washing over her skin, making it tingle. She faced the ceiling before her blush could give her away, hoping, like his scar, that it was hidden in the darkness.

“Zuko?” she said. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Mm-hmm,” he murmured softly, the sound no louder than the faint crackling of the candles.

“It’s kind of personal.” There was some hesitation this time before he said “Okay,” but Katara went for it anyway. _No time like the present._ It was something she’d been longing to ask ever since she first saw him out on the ice, during the trials. Back then it was just an errant thought, a passing wonder, but it had festered as she got to know him better, and now she wanted an answer and explanation. Even though she hadn’t revealed her feelings for him, she still felt as vulnerable as if she had divulged all of her secrets. It felt uneven, even if it was just in her own mind.

“How did you get your scar?”

* * *

 

 

It was not a question he liked to answer, especially to people who could potentially use it against him. So he didn’t say anything at first, even though the explanation was on the tip of his tongue, ready to go, like he _wanted_ her to know. Some deep part of him did want her to know, wanted her to know everything. But the true answer to this question would reveal too much. Still, he didn’t have to lie completely.

“My father gave it to me.”

He heard the faint intake of breath, felt the shift of the bed as she sat up, saw her blue eyes peer down at him. “Zuko.…”

“It’s not what you think,” he said. “When I was younger, I did something stupid and dishonorable. My father taught me a lesson in a way that I wouldn’t forget.” He touched the skin around his left eye with the tips of his fingers, feeling the ridges and burnt edges like a crumpled scroll laid flat, but permanently and irreversibly indented. He would never forget.

_“Stop!” A thirteen-year old Zuko shouted, stepping in-between his father and uncle as an arc of fire came down at them. Zuko ameteurly bent it around himself and the old man, feeling the heat of the flame skirt dangerously around his elbows. “Please Father, I beg you, have mercy!”_

_“Zuko, no,” Uncle Iroh moaned, crouching behind the boy. Zuko stood steady, staring up at the Fire Lord._

_“He just lost his son, Father. He is in pain. He doesn’t know what he’s doing.”_

_“Stand aside, Zuko,” the Fire Lord commanded, a dense ball of fire swirling threateningly in his hand. “He has made his choice.”_

_Zuko took a step forward. “You cannot kill him.”_

_There was an outbreak of murmurings as the Fire Lord stared down at him, the grimace on his face deepening with every noise of disapproval from his audience. “You dishonor me, Prince Zuko. I am the Fire Lord and I am the law. As such, I will carry out punishments as the law demands. Now. Step. Aside.”_

_But Zuko came closer to the throne, looking up at his father with desperation, yet determined not to back down. Uncle didn’t deserve death. He was mourning. Surely his father could understand that._

_“Don’t kill him.”_

_The Fire Lord squared his shoulders, his expression unreadable. “Are you willing to take his place, then?”_

_Zuko stared up at his father, wide-eyed, every nerve in his body numb. He wouldn’t kill his only son. He couldn’t._

_The look in his eyes said differently._

_Uncle Iroh was crying something from his position on the ground, begging the Fire Lord to kill him instead. Zuko heard the faint conversations of the Fire Sages to his right, discussing the appropriate proceedings. But it was his mother’s voice, soft but firm, that cut through the din._

_“Ozai, no.” It only took those two, small, simple words, for the fire in his father’s eyes to dim, though the flame in his palm still burned with vigor. His gaze fell on her, standing behind Iroh and Zuko with one arm outstretched, as if she could protect them both with just her touch._

_“Very well,” he said. “There will be no death today.” There were some cries of outrage and others cried with relief. Zuko looked back at his Uncle, expecting to see peace in his aged face. But what he saw was far from it. The old man looked more worried now than ever, if such a thing was possible._

_Then his father continued. “But you will both be punished for your insolence and crimes against your nation.”_

His Uncle was banished from the Fire Nation.

And Zuko received his scar.

“Zuko,” Katara said again, softly, bringing him back to the present. The room was darker now and as Zuko looked around, he realized the candles had already burnt halfway in the past few minutes. He must have done it while he wasn’t paying attention. At least Katara hadn’t noticed. She was staring at him, her eyes swimming with tears, lip quivering. It was the saddest he had ever seen her, and the fact that she was more upset than he was made him sit up.

“No, it’s okay,” he murmured, and cupped her cheek, wiping away a fallen tear with the pad of his thumb. The touch was so intimate, and happened so suddenly, he froze there for a moment, shocked. Katara was blinking rapidly, trying to hold back the rest of her tears, too emotional to realize what he had just done, so he dropped his hand.

“It’s not okay, Zuko. A father shouldn’t hurt his child like that.”

_You’re one to talk_ , he thought, but couldn’t say the words aloud. Things with her father were more complicated than he knew. Still, he wondered if she realized that she should take her own advice.

“I’m sure you’d have scars, too, if you couldn’t heal yourself,” he pointed out gently. Katara sniffed and wiped her nose and eyes with the back of her hand.

Then, to his surprise, she nodded. “I know I would.”

Neither of them spoke for a few moments, letting her words sink in. It was the second time she’d acknowledged her father’s abuse, but this was the first time it really seemed sincere. It was more personal, deeper.

“I’ve known it for a long time. I just never wanted to admit it to myself. Until I met you,” she said, looking up at him. She wasn’t crying anymore, but her eyes were still ringed with red, her nose pink at the tip. “And I decided that I didn’t want to lie to myself anymore.”

Zuko pressed his palm against her shoulder. The contact felt like a burst of lightning, or a rain shower on a hot summer’s day, and Zuko reveled in it. This was the first time he’d been able to touch her like this, so freely, without worrying about repercussions or propriety. It bothered him slightly that they could only do this in the privacy of her room, but at least it was happening. This was happening.

“You shouldn’t, either.”

Zuko, who had been leaning forward, paused. “What?”

“You shouldn’t lie to yourself anymore.” For an ignorant moment, he thought she was talking about them. About what they were, what they could be. And then he thought maybe she meant what they _couldn’t_ be, and he was taken back to last night. Outside of this room, they could never work; it was completely improbable. And then, when he saw her gazing at him hard, resolutely, he realized she was talking about something else entirely.

“No. No, I’m not lying to myself, Katara. My father did what he had to do to teach me respect. He _helped_ me.” Zuko moved back, putting space between them. But Katara shifted closer, her expression dogged, and reached for his hand, which he pulled away.

She only looked hurt for a second before determination returned. “Zuko, don’t you see? That is exactly what my father has been doing to me for _years_.”

“Our fathers are not the same!” Zuko said, his voice rising.

“No, they’re not. But yours should not have hurt you like that. You said you were young. Don’t you see? That was wrong of him.”

Again with the right and wrong. The two were already beginning to blur in Zuko’s mind, and this did not help to clear things up. He had never considered his father’s action _wrong_ : he had deserved it. He had spoken out inappropriately. He had dishonored his father, who had shown mercy by not killing both him and his Uncle. His father was a good man. Hakoda was bad. Dangerous. He abused his daughter when she didn’t do anything and said it would make her stronger.

“I have to go,” he muttered, and stood up.

“Zuko, please,” she said from her bed as he hurried to the door and flung it open, stalking down the hallway and up the stairs.

She didn’t understand. She didn’t know the full story. But he did, and he saw everything. He saw it all perfectly.

Katara was the one that couldn’t see.

* * *

 

And just like that they were back to not talking. This time, however, took its toll on Katara.

As days passed she found herself going through the motions—getting up, eating, classes, audiences, eating, training, sleeping—without any purpose. Her mother recruited her to help prepare for the War Summit, and Katara spent hours making decorations and overseeing the servants as they cleaned. Because of this, Katara ran into Zuko more often than she would have liked. And every single time he brushed right past her without as much as a blink in her direction.

She missed him. She missed his friendship, and she felt horrible for the way she had spoken to him about his father. But she did not regret what she said, because it was the truth. It was too easy to see the denial in his eyes, to hear the excuses he made for his father’s actions. She had once been the same way. Now she knew that it was cruel for a parent to leave such a physical and emotional mark on his child. She couldn’t imagine what Zuko had done to warrant such an attack, but whatever it was, Katara knew it was not justified.

If any of her family noticed her bad mood, they didn’t say anything. Katara figured she was doing a pretty good job of hiding it. A few times Katara thought her mother might breach the subject, but she never did, maybe understanding that Katara just needed her space.

Toph, however, was not so insightful.

“What’s your problem, Sugar Queen?” she asked Katara a few days later as they were walking back to her chambers after her lesson.

“Nothing.”

“Liar. I can tell.”

“How?” Katara snapped, glancing down at the girl. She said things like this all the time, accusing Katara of lying or keeping things from her without any proof. She was always right, too, although Katara couldn’t explain how.

“I just can.”

Katara sighed and picked up the pace, hoping Toph would get the message and leave her alone. But she matched Katara’s strides and irritatingly followed her all the way to her room. Katara tried to shut the door on the girl but she put a hand on it as it was about to close, forcing it open with unpredictable strength.

“Listen, remember that deal we made a while back?”

Katara did remember, but she said no anyway, just to annoy her.

“I want to go see my friend.”

Katara tilted her head. “I’m afraid you don’t have any bargaining chips anymore, Toph. Zuko’s pissed at me. I don’t think we’re friends anymore, so you don’t have any secret to keep.”

“Oh,” Toph chortled, “that’s where you’re wrong. I might not have any beef on you, but I got plenty on Sparky. And I don’t think you’d want some of his dirt to be dug up, if you know what I mean.”

Katara stilled. _Toph has secrets about Zuko that I don’t know?_ Was her first thought. And then, ashamed that she was so pathetic, she realized that she didn’t want these secrets, whatever they were, to get out. Toph was right—if they were as bad as she insinuated, it could mean trouble for Zuko. And even if he hated her now, she didn’t hate him. She still liked him. A lot. And that meant she would be willing to do almost anything in her power to keep him safe.

She wasn’t happy that the girl was blackmailing her, but should she really expect anything less? Besides, they had made a deal, and Toph had kept her side of it. And it surely wouldn’t hurt to get out of the palace and away from Zuko. She didn’t know how much more of his constant cold-shoulder she could take.

So she relented. “I have to go check on a sea bass order from our supplier for the War Summit. We can go today, if you want.”

In response Toph dropped her hand from the door. “I’ll see you in an hour.”

Katara rolled her eyes and slammed the door in Toph’s face.

XXXXX

Sure enough, exactly an hour later there was a knock on Katara’s door, and she opened it to see Toph standing there in a travelling cloak. “Are we going incognito today, or….”

Katara wished they could just go without people worrying about where she was, but she decided against it, especially today when her mother was so busy with preparations. She didn’t need the added anxiety of not knowing where her daughter was. Still, she donned a dark cloak and travelling clothes instead of her royal garb. At the main doors she let the guard know where she was going and who with, and they went down the steps and off the palace grounds.

Since it was the afternoon, there wasn’t the bubbling energy of the morning crowds, but a heavy sort of congestion that had Katara shoving people aside with her elbows. Toph followed closely behind, not interested in the various stands and shops today as she had been last time.

“This is where you’re meeting him?” Katara asked, standing in front of the Golden Temple, a hand shading her eyes from the blinding sun as she looked up at the tea shop’s sign.

“Yup. I’ll be quick,” Toph said, already mounting the steps.

“Take your time. I’ll be down at the port.”

Katara waited until Toph was safely inside the building before heading down the street towards the water. The couple she was meeting were experienced fishermen, a husband and wife who ran one of the more quality establishments on the fish market. Kya had ordered twelve barrels of both sea bass and catfish, but apparently there was a shortage of sea bass this season, and Katara was making sure they’d be able to provide.

They didn’t recognize her as she approached them so she made small talk, getting a feel for their characters before introduced herself. They were amiable people, kind both before and after they knew who she was. She liked them immediately. They were also very affectionate with each other. Throughout the whole conversation they maintained contact with each other, as if they were communicating through touch. It made her jealous. It also made her think of Zuko. They didn’t have what these people had: Trust. And Love. And years of learning and growing with one another.

By the time they parted, Katara was positive that they would make good on their shipment, and would tell her mother no less. Plus, she had learned that they were friends with Loq, the head cook, which only helped her opinion of them.

When Katara walked through the doors of the Golden Temple, she was nervous not to see Toph right away. Lilit came over to embrace her with a wide smile on her face, saying it had been entirely too long since Katara had last visited, when in reality it hadn’t been all that long. But she didn’t mention this.

Then she spied Toph in a table at the very back of the shop, leaning forward as if she were intently listening to someone. And then Katara saw who sat across from her.

She did not recognize him. But his appearance did trigger something in the recesses of her memory, like the face of a person who you know you walked passed once but didn’t give a second glance. She gave Lilit another hug then went over to them.

“I’m almost done here,” Toph said before Katara had even taken a breath. She was about to speak, maybe to introduce herself or something, but Toph help up a finger, silencing her. Katara let out a slow, controlled breath, glaring at the girl.

“Are you sure about this?” Toph asked the old man sitting across from her.

He smiled and Katara noticed that half his teeth were crooked and the other half were missing. “Yes we are!”

While Toph’s demeanor was serious and alert, the old man sounded jovial, as if everything was one big joke to him.

“Now, aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend?” he asked Toph, and instead of getting a snarky anwer like Katara expected, Toph gestured between them.

“Katara, this is Bumi. Bumi Katara.” Then she stood up, pushing her chair back a few feet. “I don’t like this at all. But I trust you, Flopsy. Don’t make me regret it.”

The old man started cackling as Toph grabbed Katara’s elbow and pulled her out the door and back into the hustle and bustle of the Capital.


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this chapter is even longer than any of the others, so good luck reading it all...I was gonna make it 2 chaps but then both of those were a bit too short so I'm just gonna give this to you guys in apology for not updating last week. I'm officially 2 weeks into Spring semester, so I haven't had a lot of free time. Hopefully I can keep updating semi-regularly! Also, I know the ending is stupid and corny, but I don't have the energy to fix it. So enjoy this monster chapter! Love you guys <3
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing (except my characters so suck it Nickelodean or however you spell your confusing name)

 

 

* * *

 

If Zuko never saw a sea clam again in his lifetime, it would be too soon.

With the Supreme War Summit only four days away, everyone was scrambling to finish last-minute details, one of them including shelling clams. Jin and Orchard had been working on the task for the past two days, and Zuko had helped whenever he wasn't preoccupied with Sokka, who was training now harder than ever, since he wouldn't be able to during the festivities.

He had told Zuko that the royals were expected to attend all the events one night when they were sparring.

"That means you'll probably be there, too," Sokka said, thrusting his sword at Zuko's stomach, which he dodged easily.

"Do I have to go?"

"A lot of servants will be needed to wait on the nobles. The Northerners are awfully high-maintenance compared to us."

Just the thought of that filled Zuko with dread. If _Sokka_ of all people thought the nobles from the North were high-maintenece, they must be really bad. Plus, he'd be stuck for days in the same place as Katara, which would be torture in and of itself.

It was one of the hardest things he'd had to do since arriving in the South to keep from talking to her, from apologizing (for nothing), from begging her to talk to him again. He knew he was the one who had initiated the silence between them, but she had kept it up. And now every time he saw her in class or in walking in the hall, he had to pretend not to see her, or to be busy with something else. He wanted to talk to her. Desperately.

But he couldn't just forget what she said. Of what she had accused his father. The very idea was preposterous. His father was a good man and a great ruler who just wanted peace. _Her_ father was the evil one.

And yet, her words tugged the fibers of his mind like a minnow teasing a fishing line. She'd gotten under his skin. And he hated the doubt she had planted there.

Because he had deserved his punishment. And Uncle deserved to be banished. There had to be law and order, and the law had to be upheld. It was the duty of the Fire Lord to see to that.

Zuko touched a salty finger to his cheek, feeling the rough, scaly skin there, and tried to empty his troubled mind. _Clams_ , he thought. _Focus on clams._

"Hey, you okay?" Jin asked from across the table, a knife in one hand and an open shell in the other.

"Yeah. I'm fine."

He wasn't fine. He'd been in a bad mood ever since that fight and wasn't doing a good job of hiding it. Toph had noticed—she complained about it one day after class—and apparently others noticed too.

"Don't worry," Orchard chirped obliviously. "Only four more barrels to go, and then we're done!"

Zuko eyed the wooden barrels of clams waiting in the corner with disdain, and noticed Jin doing the same. When their gazes met she half-smiled. It seemed that his falling-out with Katara had pleased her significantly. Whereas before she had been distant and reserved, she had now reverted to her old self, chatting with him whenever they happened to cross paths, grabbing him an extra cookie at dinner (the chef, Loq, loved her), and sharing stories about her day before they fell asleep. It was getting colder, so they were sharing an extra blanket at night which honestly made Zuko a little uncomfortable, but he didn't protest; he needed all the friends he could get if he was ever going to get through this fight with Katara.

"Let's talk about something else," Jin piped up. "Have you guys heard about the ball?"

"No. What about it?" Orchard asked, leaning in excitedly. Zuko was pretty sure he knew what Jin was talking about—Sokka had told him a few days ago.

"Apparently the Empress has requested that all servants be allowed to attend," Jin said.

Orchard made a happy noise. Jin nodded, picking up another shell. "Of course, we're expected to be working the whole night, but at least we get to be there. Oh, and she's having fabric shipped in from one of the Empire colonies so we can make dress clothes!"

While the two of them planned their ensembles for the occasion, Zuko gloomed over his pile of clams. He had never liked dances. Even back in the fire nation he used to hide in his bedroom whenever his parents held a ball, reading scrolls or training. Of course, it wasn't like he was _allowed_ to go to them, anyway. Since his identity was kept secret when he was growing up, attending a very crowded, very public gathering was simply out of the question. His parents allowed him to go to the masquerade ball the royal family held every winter, on the condition he wore a mask, but he still refused the invitation. He didn't like to dance. It was foolish and demeaning, and not appropriate for a Fire Nation prince.

Plus, he couldn't dance to save his life.

But no one knew that other than himself, because he had never danced in front of anyone before. He had tried one time in the privacy of his own room and had almost set the entire palace on fire.

So no, he did not want to attend the ball. But Sokka had already made it clear that Zuko was expected to be there, and in formal wear. He was going to lend him one of his old outfits that "didn't fit him anymore" (even thought Zuko was taller and broader than Sokka) so he didn't look like a commoner while he was serving him. Zuko had given in, albeit reluctantly, so when Jin offered to sew him a new dress shirt, Zuko refused politely.

"Aren't you going?" she asked.

"Yes, but I don't need you to make me a shirt."

Her face fell. "Oh."

"Not that I wouldn't want you to make me one!" he said quickly, realizing he sounded like a jerk. "I mean, I would—but I don't, so you don't have to."

Orchard looked at him oddly, Jin stared at her clam, and Zuko mentally kicked himself.

_I'm an idiot._

"Do you have a date?" Orchard asked then, completely out of nowhere, and Jin's head jerked up.

Zuko swallowed thickly. "I'm going to be working all night."

Orchard rested her chin on her hands, ignoring the small heap of clams waiting to be un-shelled. "So will we. It's just that some of the staff are going together for fun. I mean, _I_ have a date, but I know that Jin doesn't. Yet," she added, wagging her bushy eyebrows.

Jin flushed and shot Orchard a glare. Zuko looked down, wanting nothing more than to disappear. Honestly, he hadn't even considered going with anyone.

Unwelcomely, Katara's face flashed across his mind. He shook off the image, ashamed for letting her back into his head. He'd been doing so well, too. _Clams,_ he thought doggedly, _focus on clams._

"I-I mean," Jin stuttered shyly, "if you don't have anyone to go with already, I'd be happy to. You know, go with you. To the ball." Her cheeks were crimson and her eyes hopeful. But there was also a hint of suspicion lurking in them, and Zuko could tell she was dying to know if he was planning on going with a certain royal. Which he wasn't. She would probably ignore him the whole night, anyway.

Still, it felt wrong to go with another girl, especially someone who obviously liked him. It felt wrong to pretend to reciprocate those feelings if they weren't real. It was dishonest and slightly cruel. So he plastered on his most charming smile, hoping it wouldn't look too fake.

"Sorry, but I think Prince Sokka might get jealous if I go with another girl."

This, thankfully, made them both laugh and eased the tension that had been building in the room. It did nothing, however, for the tension that still loomed in his chest.

* * *

 

No matter what she did, Katara could not get Toph to talk. Pleading, bribery, even threatening her didn't work. The girl was an iron prison when it came to her secrets.

"Keep trying, sweetcakes. It ain't gonna work," she smirked at Katara, who was standing in front of the girl with a tray of fresh kelp cookies. Toph grabbed one and gnawed on it noisly.

"No secrets, no cookies," Katara grumbled, snatching back the tray and setting it on the table. She desperately wanted to know what she'd been discussing with Bumi at the tea shop, but Toph had been steady in her silence. Katara imagined it was something unimportant, maybe some Earth Kingdom business, but there was always the slim chance it was dangerous. Even though she was fairly certain Toph wouldn't do anything to hurt her, she couldn't say the same for her family. She seemed to like Sokka well enough (even though she called him a "dunce" to his face on a regular basis), but she didn't hide her disdain for her father.

Toph had only met the Emperor on a few occasions when Katara summoned her during an Audience, and a few meals, but neither of them had made a good impression on the other. Katara assumed Toph hated him so much because it was his soldiers that had captured and taken her from her home. And the Emperor hated everyone, so it was no surprise that Toph was not an exception.

On the other hand, she seemed to love Kya. Everyone loved her mother. Even in the midst of all this pre-summit craziness, she was just as loving and respectable as always, if not a bit frazzled. Katara was doing everything she could to help out, and had enlisted Toph in the operation as well, giving her plenty of opportunities to try and get the girl to talk.

"Whatever it is, Toph, I could help," Katara tried again. They were in the dining hall where the royal family had their meals, but it looked completely transformed. The single rectangular table had been replaced with three long, narrow wooden tables that almost ran the length of the room. Blue and white draperies hung along the walls and at least 50 candleabras were set up. When they were lit in a few days, the entire room would glow blue-gold with the reflection of the flames on the ice. It would be beautiful.

Katara and Toph were supposed to be working on the table settings, getting everything in place for the hundred nobles that would be dining in the room. The bed chambers were already prepared—the staff had been working tirelessly for the past few days, Toph included.

She sounded tired when she said, "It's not a big deal."

"If it's not a big deal, then why can't you tell me?"

Toph sighed and dropped a fork onto one of the porcelain plates, making an echoing clatter in the spacious room. A few workers turned to look and Katara glared at them until they went back to work.

"Seriously, Katara. Just drop it."

She knew Toph was getting annoyed when she started using her actual name rather than her _charming_ pet names. Katara folded another napkin, sticking Toph's dropped silverware into it. It really was going to be beautiful in here. After the feast all the tables and dishes would be cleared and they would empty the space for the ball. There would be live musicians and dancing. Men and women from the North and South would mingle and enjoy the festivities. There was even going to be a memorial for Reya set up in the courtyard where people could pay their respects. It had been Kya's idea and even though he didn't say as much, Katara knew that Sokka appreciated it.

His attitude had brightened considerably in the past week, probably due to his increased training. Since she wasn't spending so much time with Zuko, he had more free time to spar with Sokka.

_Ugh._ She let out a deep breath. She'd been doing so good, not thinking about him. Katara had been so preoccupied with Toph's mystery meeting that it gave her mind some respite from Zuko's cold shoulder. But yet again, he had infiltrated her thoughts.

"You alright sweetness?" Toph asked, already halfway down the table.

Katara had to pick up the pace. "Yeah, I'm fine." Toph shrugged but evidently didn't believe her. It was the most curious thing; she always seemed to know how Katara was feeling, even when she didn't say anything. And she certainly couldn't see it on her face. She was so…perceptive. If Katara didn't know better, she might think the girl was lying about being blind.

But of course she wasn't. Toph couldn't see. It was a fact. Indisputable. Still, she watched the girl out of the corner of her eye, the way her hands moved so surely over the place settings, gracefully folding napkins and tucking the silverware within them. There was no hesitation, no doubt. Yet her gaze was somewhere across the room, staring at something unseen.

It was fascinating.

As she watched, Toph's face changed, shifting from contentedness to confusion, and then understanding. "Hey there, Sparky."

Katara turned just as Zuko walked through the double doors leading into the room. His steps faltered when he saw her, and she noticed his eyes flicker to the door, as if he wanted to turn right back around. But he didn't. Instead, he walked around to Toph's side of the table.

"Hey Toph," he greeted her, ignoring Katara completely. "Listen, I need a favor."

"Depends what it is."

Zuko sighed but continued. "Sokka just told me that, since I'll have to be with him the night of the ball, I have to be able to… _entertain_ his guests. And by that he means I'll have to dance with the girls he doesn't think are pretty enough, but can't turn down because they're daughters of important people, or something."

Katara stifled a laugh and Zuko shot her a look. Sokka had a bad habit of passing off his less desirable partners to whatever unlucky servant he chose to accompany him. Last time they'd held a ball in the palace, that unlucky servant was a 60-year old man with balding hair and a snaggle-tooth, so Katara thought the girls were actually the unlucky ones. But she could only imagine the attention Zuko would get at the ball. Girls would be lining up to be tossed aside by her brother.

This put an especially sour taste in Katara's mouth, and she redirected her annoyance to the table settings.

"So what?" Toph asked, unaffected.

" _So_ , I need you to teach me to dance." He sounded ridiculously embarrassed, saying this, and Katara looked up to see the skin from his cheeks to the tips of his ears flaring red. Somehow, Katara wasn't surprised. Zuko wasn't the most coordinated person to start with. Even within the short time she'd spent with him, and the even shorter time they'd spent not ignoring each other, Zuko had stumbled or tripped over his own feet more times than she could count.

"Not gonna happen, buddy."

Zuko groaned. "You can't dance either?"

"Don't insult me, Hotpants," Toph snorted. "Of course I can dance. I'm basically a professional. But that doesn't mean I want to teach you. I got better things to do with my time."

"What, like folding napkins and polishing silver?"

She smiled. "Exactly."

"Why don't you just ask Jin?" Katara said, blurting it out before she could stop herself. She didn't sound jealous exactly, but she definintely sounded spiteful, even to her own ears.

By the frown on Zuko's face, Katara could tell he had considered this option, which only aggravated her further.

"I would, but…I can't."

"And why not?" she asked, shining a knife on her sleeve. She was probably overstepping the fragile boundry they'd established in their silence, but she couldn't stop herself. Now she was curious.

"I—um—I don't want her to, you know. Get the wrong idea."

Katara's heart pounded unevenly in her chest.

Toph smirked. "Well, I happen to know that her Highness her is an _excellent_ dancer." She leaned forward on the table, waiting to see what would happen next.

"Toph!"

"What? I've heard you prancing around your room plenty of times."

Katara steamed at the girl, but also watched Zuko, gauging his reaction. The ball was in his court.

He looked at her, dubious, and ran a hand through his hair. She could see the misgiving written clearly on his face, and just when she expected him to refuse, he sighed.

"I guess that would be alright. Do you mind?" he asked Katara with a sheepish look.

Katara let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. "Not at all."

* * *

 

They met that night in the dining hall after everyone had gone to bed. Zuko didn’t want to risk anyone seeing him and Katara had agreed. He really didn’t want to do this, but what other choice did he have? Knowing Sokka, he would be on his feet all night, and he didn’t want to look like an idiot in front of everyone. (Not that he cared what a bunch of Water Empire people thought of him.) In fact, looking like a klutz on the dance floor would probably make him even more inconspicuous. But he had already made up his mind.

Of course Toph wouldn’t make things easy for him. Even though he wasn’t quite as mad at Katara anymore, what she had said about his father still stuck with him. Being in the same room with her had confused him more than he anticipated. He wanted to hate her—it would make everything so much simpler—but then she had looked at him, and he saw in her eyes how much this stalemate between them was affecting her, too.

By the time he was supposed to go meet her, he had resigned himself to it. He wouldn’t forgive her—no, not yet. But he would give her a chance. For now, that had to be enough. Toph played lookout while Zuko snuck out of his room and Katara met him on the second floor. By the time he got there she had already lit a few candles, casting a ghostly glow over the room just bright enough to see what they were doing.

            “So, how do we do this?” Zuko asked quietly as he approached Katara. They were both dressed in what they’d been wearing earlier that day, but Katara said it didn’t matter. In the Water Empire it was customary for women to wear gowns, but men still wore pants, although they were definintely nicer than his, which were threadbare and full of holes.

            “Well,” she started, setting down the match she’d been using to light the candles, “the traditional dances of the Water Empire, dating back to the time of the spirits, were used to control the tides. The moon and ocean spirits—”

            “Tui and La,” Zuko interrupted. He knew the legends. He expected Katara to be surprised, but she just nodded.

            “That’s right. They used this dance to push and pull the tides, to keep the balance between the earth and the sea. Humans learned to mimic the dance, and so learned how to waterbend.”

            Katara held out one arm from her body and crossed the other over it. Then she motioned for Zuko to do the same. He did, and they began to move in a slow circle.

            “So this dance has to do with the push and pull between partners; the transfer of energy between them, bending not the elements, but the energy within each other.”

            Zuko watched the light thrown from the candles flicker across Katara’s face as they turned around each other. The entire thing was ridiculous. _Push and pull? Transfer of energy?_ He wanted to hate it. He wanted to think it was ridiculous. He wanted to throw up his hands and storm from the room, forget that Toph had ever encouraged them to do this, forget that he had agreed to it.

            But as Katara brought her arm back and around her body, Zuko found himself doing the same.

            As he watched her face soften under the faint light, going through these motions so similar to waterbending, he realized that this was far from ridiculous.  

            They turned away from each other, bending low to the ground and brushing the floor with their fingertips, and when Zuko turned back around, Katara was inches from him.

            “Now, you take my hand.”

            She looked up at him through her eyelashes, her expression fearful. She was afraid he would leave. Whatever kind of peace the two of them had reached was so fragile, could be so easily shattered. Zuko hated that it had to be that way.

            So he pressed the palm of his hand to hers, lining up their fingers, his a little longer than hers, her hands calloused against his scarred skin.

            That familiar shudder of electricity sparked down his arm as they turned in a circle, hands touching, eyes following each other’s movements. Katara moved his hand to the small of her back and let him direct her through the dance.

            And he could feel it. The push and pull. The transfer of energy. He couldn’t explain it if someone asked; it was just a feeling. A feeling of being so absolutely in sync with another person that he felt like he could bend the very sun itself.

            Of course for a waterbender, it was probably a very different sensation. Katara’s eyes were swimming with it, the elation plain on her face.

            Finally they slowed, and Katara pulled away. Only then did Zuko see how close they had been standing and he jerked back. Katara’s eyes immediately shaded over, and her head fell.

            “Zuko, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry for everything I said to you. I don’t know you or your family, and even if I believe what I said, I had no right to force it on you. I’m sorry.” She looked up at him, her eyes swimming with something entirely different than before. “Can you forgive me?”

            The funny part was, he realized, he had forgiven her before she even started speaking.

            “Of course.”

            She sniffed and smiled at him, and before he could move or say anything more, she launched herself into his arms. He froze for a moment, taken completely by surprise. But then his arms wrapped around her body, melted into the thick fabric of her coat, and he breathed in the scent of her hair.

            Had they ever touched like this? Sure, it was more physical contact than they’d ever had, but this was different. His soul was bare for her to see. And she was there, in his arms, closer than she had ever been.

            The annoying voice in the back of his head chimed in, the one who constantly reminded him of his mission. But this time, it was easy to silence.

 XXXXXX

            He didn’t dare walk Katara back to her room, since it would be crawling with guards, so they parted at the door of the dining hall.

            “See you tomorrow, fire brat?”

            “Count on it, Princess.”

 XXXXXXX

            Toph must have done a good job of distracting the guards, because they were still gone by the time he reached the servant’s quarters, and he got through the doors without any trouble.

            And then he was thrown back against a wall and gagged by a hand over his mouth.

            Before he could react, Toph was in front of him with a finger to her lips, pointing at a room behind them. His eyebrows pulled in, still confused, but she just dragged him with surprising strength.

            She pushed Zuko through the door and closed it, separating them from any curious ears.

            “What do you think you’re doing?” Zuko demanded, struggling to get up to his feet.

            “How was your dance lesson, Sparky? Or should I call you twinkle toes now?” she joked, folding her arms across her chest.

            He growled and dusted off his pants. “What do you want?”

            She pointed behind him. “Take a seat.”

            There was a table and two chairs waiting in the corner. They sat down, Zuko still confused and a little angry, but resigned. If he tried to get away it would probably only end badly for him, and besides, he trusted Toph—at least until she spilled his secret, he trusted her.

            “Have you told Katara that you’re a firebender?”

            Zuko’s eyes popped. “Toph, are you crazy? Keep your voice down!” He looked to the door again to make sure they were securely shut.

            She rolled her eyes. “Relax, those guards won’t be back for a while.”

            He opened his mouth to ask when she had done to them, but stopped when he considered that maybe he didn’t want to know. Leaning back in his chair, he crossed his arms. “No, I haven’t told her.”

            “Good,” she said to his surprise.

            “Good?”

            “Yeah. You should keep it that way.”  

            Now things were getting weird. She had been the one to suggest he tell Katara who he was, what he could do, in the first place. “Toph, what’s going on?”

            Toph, seemingly at ease, put her legs up on the table and crossed her ankles so he was looking more at the dirty bottoms of her feet than at her face. She had broken through the bottoms of her shoes and her bare feet were exposed. Choosing not to comment on this, Zuko sat up and braced his hands on his thighs. “What’s going on?” he repeated.

            “I have a proposition for you.”

            “What kind of proposition?” He really wasn’t keen on making any more deals with this kid. She seemed trustworthy, but she also seemed like if the time came to choose between herself and the secrets she’d been entrusted with, that it wouldn’t be a difficult decision for her to make.

            “I happen to be involved with this…” she paused, looking for the right word. _“_ Let’s call it a s _ociety_. And we have a special interest in protecting our… _assets_.”

            “Toph, cut it out,” Zuko growled, already over the ambiguity.

            “Fine,” she said, swinging her feet off the table. In one fluid motion she was leaning forward, her hands clutching the table, face inches from Zuko’s. There was absolute determination in her expression. In a hushed voice, she said, “I need your help protecting the royal family.”

           

* * *

 

Katara barely ate anything at breakfast the next morning; she just wanted to get to class. Perhaps it was foolish of her to think the distance between she and Zuko had been fully bridged just by exchanging a few kind words the night before, but she couldn’t help it. He was talking to her again, and she intended to keep it that way. To keep his trust, and respect. Even if she still didn’t agree with what his father did, she could bite her tongue for the sake of their friendship.

            As soon as Sokka finished his second plate of eggs and stood up, Katara was heading out the door.

            “Katara,” Hakoda called from the table, and she warily turned around, trying to keep her face stoic. She was still angry with him for what he had done to her and she simply didn’t want to put up with his crap anymore. But he was her father, and the Emperor. So she had to at least pretend to tolerate him.

            “Yes?”

            “We will train tonight.”

            It wasn’t an offer. It wasn’t a question. It was a demand. One that she fiercely wanted to deny, but knew she couldn’t. As heir to the Water Empire throne, she was expected to perform for the nobles during the feast. It was a form of entertainment but also a show of power, and a Water Empire tradition, one she had to learn from a master: her father. Sokka looked back and forth between them, slightly interested in the confrontation, but not enough to intervene.

            “Yes, Father.” 

XXXXXXXXX

            “Are you sure you’re ready for that?” Zuko asked her after class as they walked down the hall together. Sokka had already gone to the training room and Katara had dismissed Toph, so they had privacy to speak freely. Zuko had expressed his doubts about Katara training with her father again, and even though Katara agreed with him, she knew she couldn’t get out of it. But she could at least calm Zuko’s apprehensions.

            “I am. I’ve been training on my own ever since our last session, and also with my mother. All I have to do is fight back hard enough so he doesn’t think I’m letting him win, and then I’ll let him win. The only thing that’ll be hurt is my pride,” she grumbled.

            The pair went upstairs to the servant’s quarters and Zuko led the way to the kitchen. There were only three days until the War Summit, two before the nobles started to arrive, and the chefs were still behind on the sea clams. Zuko told her that his friends had been working all the time trying to shell and clean them, but it was a monotonous process. Katara had eagerly agreed to help. Her mother had all the other preparations under control, and besides, Katara wanted to meet this infamous Jin. Apparently she had met her once before, briefly when she’d gone to Zuko after getting hurt, but she had been too out of it to remember anything.

            She didn’t tell Zuko this, of course. He would just think she was jealous of their friendship or something. Which she wasn’t. He was allowed to have other friends.

            Just as long as he liked her best.

            The smell of seafood hit her before they reached the kitchen, wafting out from the wooden doors and assaulting her senses. She pitied the people who had to work with this stench hanging around all day.

            Zuko led her into the kitchens and to a back room where three people were sitting around a table piled high with small white shells. As soon as they entered, all of them looked up, unsuspecting, until they realized who was standing there.

            One of the girls and the older man instantly fell to their knees, arms outstretched, and the other girl gradually assumed the same position, although she wasn’t in a rush.

            “Your Highness!” the man exclaimed, raising only his eyes to address her. “What are you doing here?”

            _This is_ my _palace_ , Katara had the urge to say, but kept it down. It was a harmless question and deserved a harmless answer.

            “I’ve come to help you. Please, stand up,” she said with what was hopefully a kind smile. The three servants looked to one another before rising cautiously, like they were unsure if she had truly granted them permission, or if it was a cruel joke. It kind of hurt to see what people truly thought of her, but what else should she expect? What had she done for them to expect anything different? She had worked years to foster a certain reputation to protect herself. 

            That didn’t mean it hurt any less.

__ “Katara,” Zuko said, stepping into the room, “these are my friends: Orchard, Tuuk, and Jin.” He pointed to each of them in turn and Katara dipped her head respectfully. Jin was sitting on the far right, a knife still in her hand though she had long since dropped her clam shell on the table. The way she was glaring at her confirmed Katara’s suspicions that Jin was not a fan of hers. The feeling was mutual.

            “It’s nice to meet you all,” she said, though she was lying to one of them. “How can I help?”

            At that moment Loq emerged from the kitchen, wiping his hands on a dish towel, and his face brightened when he saw her.

            “Katara!” he bellowed, and opened his arms for a hug, which she returned enthusiastically, even though he smelled like rotten ostrich-horse eggs. “It’s been far too long since you’ve visited my kitchen.”

            Katara beamed up at him.

            “I remember when you were only this high,” he gestured to his waist, “and you would come in and insist on taste-testing _every single_ one of the pastries I baked. Your father would have had my head if he knew I let you do that. But you were just too cute to resist!”

            Zuko smiled at that and Katara blushed. “Stop it, Loq.”

            “But it’s true!” he guffawed. “You had those frizzy braids and chubby little cheeks!”

            “Chubby cheeks?” Zuko asked, amused. She slapped his arm.            

            “It was baby fat. Everyone has it!”

            He and Loq had a good laugh at her expense before she finally got them to quiet down and stop reminiscing. There were still two barrels of sea clams waiting to be shelled and they didn’t have any time to waste.

            Tuuk and Orchard were pleasant enough, their conversation becoming more open and natural once they got to know her better and were reassured that she wouldn’t have them deported for speaking their minds. But Jin just glared in her general direction when she wasn’t stabbing her clams with unnecessary aggression. Zuko didn’t miss this, either. He kept glancing over at her, his face clouded, and Katara wasn’t sure whether he was angry or concerned for her.

            Katara had always assumed Jin didn’t like her. Zuko talked about her all the time and she knew they were close. She probably didn’t like that Katara was stealing his attention. But she had helped save Katara that one time, and for that, she was grateful, and grudgingly willing to put aside their differences.

            “You know,” Katara started during a lull in the conversation, “Jin, I never thanked you.”

            Jin looked up, her expression wary. “For what?”

            “For helping me that one time. With the guards.”

            There was a moment of confusion, and Katara hoped she hadn’t forgotten already. But then understanding flooded her face.

            “Oh. It’s alright.”

            “No, it’s not,” Katara said, setting down her knife. “I really do appreciate it. I don’t want to think of what might’ve happened to me had you not been there.”

            Jin was still trying to be angry with her, but Katara could see the softness underneath her grimace, gently touching the corner of her mouth. “You’re welcome,” she said, and Katara smiled at her, eliciting a small half-grin.

            Even that small act, however forced it was, was beautiful, and Katara could see why Zuko liked Jin so much. As she looked over at him she saw the relief on his face and he smiled at her. Katara felt relief too. He shouldn’t have to choose between two friends.


	31. Chapter 31

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAPPY VALENTINES DAY! Yes, there is some fluff in this chapter. 'Tis the season and all. But this is also kind of a pivotal chapter, plot-wise. I hope you like it!! Please comment and tell me what you think--I love hearing from you guys. Also, I'm always on the lookout for cover art and stuff, so if you can draw, feel free! Lastly, sorry for the weird formatting. It's the website. I'm too tired to fix it, so just ignore it!
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own avatar yada yada yada blah

 

* * *

 

That night, after walking Katara back to her chambers, Zuko met Toph in the same room she’d ambushed him in the other night. She was waiting, her back to the door, flicking toe fuzz at a vase in the corner.

“You know,” Zuko started upon closing the door, “you should never turn your back on a door. You never know who could enter.”

“Ah, except I do.”

Zuko sat down. “What do you mean?” There was no way she could differentiate between people unless she heard their voices.

“I see with my feet, Hotpants. How else could I be so incredibly good at earthbending?”

Zuko’s eyebrows furrowed. “You _see_. With your _feet_.”

Toph sighed and rolled her eyes. “What, are you deaf? Yes, I see with my feet. 20/20 foot vision. In fact, I can tell you exactly what you look like right now.”

She settled both feet on the ground and leaned forward, her eyes narrowed as if she was looking at him. Zuko stayed still, observing.

“You’re tall. I’d say about 5’9. You got a lean build and shaggy hair. One leg is slightly longer than the other.”

“What?” Zuko exclaimed, looking at his legs, which were perfectly even. At least to his knowledge. But she was spot on with everything else. Except she didn’t mention his scar, which to most people would be his defining feature. Either she couldn’t see details like that or she was considerate enough not to point it out (which he doubted). Whatever the reason, he was grateful she left it out. It improved his opinion of her that much more.

Toph relaxed in her chair, looking pleased with herself. Zuko chuckled and shook his head. “That’s pretty amazing.”

“What can I say? _I’m_ pretty amazing.”

Zuko rolled his eyes. _Pretty humble, too_.

But he hadn’t come here to make small talk. Their previous conversation had gotten interrupted by the night guards coming to swap with the other ones whom, Zuko had learned, Toph stuffed in a utility closet. How she managed to incapacitate two fully grown waterbenders was beyond him, and he couldn’t help but be impressed. But they’d had to hurry back to the servant’s bedchambers before they got a chance to really talk, which was why they were meeting again tonight.

“So, you need me to help you protect the royal family.” Zuko said, starting where they’d left off. If anything, Zuko was humoring her. Whatever she wanted him to do was the exact opposite of what he’d been sent there to do. Maybe he would consider helping her protect Katara, but the rest of them? Although Kya had never done anything to make him question her intentions…and even Sokka had his redeeming moments….

No. He had his mission. He couldn’t let himself get distracted, especially not by Toph and whatever she wanted him to do.

“That’s right.” She took a deep breath. “You see, I’m a member of the Order of the White Lotus, an ancient, secret society made of masters from the four nations. Our purpose is to help the Avatar maintain peace and balance in the world.”

Zuko frowned. “But the Avatar is gone. No one has seen him in over 100 years.”

“I _know that_.” She rolled her eyes again. “That’s why _we_ have now taken up the task of ending this war.”

So they were on the same side, then. This realization made Zuko look at her in a different light. If she was telling him the truth, she was a lot more powerful than he had given her credit for. He had never heard of the white lotus before, but she had said they were secret. A secret society of masters, from all four nations, working together? It sounded too good to be true. But he didn’t see any dishonesty in her expression, and he was pretty good at telling when people were lying to him—he had grown up with Azula, after all.

Still, he was skeptical. “If you’re trying to end this war,” Zuko said, “then why are you trying to protect the royal family? Why not kill them?”

Toph’s eyebrow twitched, and he hoped he hadn’t revealed too much. But she kept talking, oblivious to his intentions. “We aim for _peace_ , Zuko.” She lowered her voice. “We want to stage a coup. Overthrow the government from the inside. And right now, I’m the only one that’s made it inside. But if you come on board, I know we can do it.”

It made sense. Zuko had never really considered a non-violent end. Terminating the royal line was the fastest way end this war, but it was also the bloodiest. And his father had destined him to have that blood on his hands.

A shiver ran down Zuko’s spine. Had he ever really thought about how this would turn out? He had pictured the Emperor’s death so many times it was like second nature. He saw it every time he closed his eyes.

But what about after? What about when he stood over Katara’s slain father, Hakoda’s blood still warm on his skin, his last breath hovering above in the air—how would he handle that?

            “Why do you need my help? If you’re a master, why don’t you just overthrow the Empire by yourself?”

            “Believe me, if I could I would. But this is where it gets complicated,” Toph said, and Zuko snorted. _Like it wasn’t complicated before._ Toph ignored this, however. “I can’t stage the coup and protect the royal family at the same time. They’re in danger, Zuko.”

            This got his attention. “Danger? What danger?”

            Was she talking about him? _She can’t be. If she suspected me I’d be dead by now,_ he reasoned _._ But he had thought he was the only threat inside the palace. There were hundreds of guards lining the halls, and all the servants were loyal to the Empire. The traitorous firenation immigrant had proven that to Zuko. 

            Toph leaned even closer until they were only a breath apart. “There are people in the capital who want them dead. Especially the Emperor. And the future Empress.”

            _Katara._ They wanted Katara dead. _Why would anyone want that? They obviously don’t know her_. If only people knew the real her, not the person her father made her out to be, they would understand that she was good, deep down.

            “Who?” Zuko asked, rage bleeding through his indifference. “Who wants to hurt her?”

            Toph shook her head, and he saw sincere frustration in her face. “We don’t know. Yet. I have people on the outside trying to find out. All we know is that they’re out there.”

            So here he was, at yet another crossroad.

            On one hand, this was the exact opposite of what his father had sent Zuko here to do. Instead of killing the royal family, he’d be protecting their lives. He’d be betraying his father, his sister’s memory, and his entire country.

            On the other hand, this could save them all, and without any more bloodshed. There had been far too much already—he had suffered from it firsthand. And perhaps a quiet coup could be less violent and therefore more acceptable to the citizens of the Water Empire. Instead of hating the country that killed their rulers and took over their lives, they could work together to find peace, and rebuild. The consequences of the war could be remedied in half the time, and without any more lost lives.

            Toph was watching him, her eyes glazed but body alert, feet on the ground. He wondered if she could feel his rapid heartbeat, sense the indecision and confusion gnawing away at it. There was so much to consider.

            But really, in the end, there was only one thing, wasn’t there?

_Whatever you believe your purpose is here, I implore you to look inside of yourself, to find the truth. She will need you to._

Zuko closed his eyes, picturing the words he was about to say. They looked all wrong in his head, blurred by the words “betrayal” and “traitor.” But when he said them out loud, they felt absolutely right.

            “What do you need me to do?”

* * *

 

Katara awoke to the innate sensation of the moon falling to the rising sun, the same feeling of draining power she got every morning. It only took a few minutes for her body to adjust to the daytime, but it was always slightly uncomfortable. Even when she was asleep the essence of the moon affected her, strengthened her. But when it disappeared over the horizon she lost that touch of extra power, and it took her a few moments to revert. She was especially sore from training the night before.

She and her father hadn’t sparred, but they had rehearsed her performance for the feast, and her joints and muscles were tight and sore. She still wasn’t confident in the routine, so she had decided to go practice in the courtyard when Toph walked in.

“I have a message from your father. He says to wear your regalia. The nobles are arriving.”

“A day early?” Katara exclaimed, yanking her tunic back over her head. It was utterly rude for them to be arriving ahead of schedule, and Katara could only imagine how flustered her mother must be feeling. Toph just shrugged, already dressed in her nicest uniform. But her hair was a disaster, and once Katara had on a more formal set of robes, she pulled the girl’s hair into an elegant updo. Toph tried to protest, saying something about how she didn’t want to look all “girly-girly,” but Katara sat her down anyway.

“I can’t have my lady’s maid looking like a rag-a-muffn, now can I?”

Toph didn’t respond, but Katara noticed the pale ghost of a smile on her lips.

 

Sure enough, when she walked into the dining hall there were two unfamiliar people sitting on the other side of the table, between her mother and father. She curtsied gracefully before sitting down.

“Welcome to the Southern Empire,” Katara addressed the strangers.

One was a man, tall and broad-shouldered, with graying facial hair and a wolf’s tail. He donned a warrior’s uniform complete with black-plated armor and a sword hanging by his side. His dark brown hair was beaded and his eyes, shadow blue like the deepest part of the ocean, looked like they held volumes of secrets.

“Princess Katara, it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, finally,” the man spoke in a deep, colorful voice. “My name is Chief Kanook, and this is my wife, Rebekah.”

“The pleasure is all mine,” Katara said, nodding to him and Rebekah, who simply nodded back. She waited, expecting the small woman to say something, but she merely looked on silently, sitting still as a flag on a windless evening. She, too, was decorated with colorful beads and wore a dress similar to Katara’s, but with heavier fabrics designed for travel on the cold seas.

Throughout breakfast Chief Kanook and her father talked politely about the weather and current events in the Chief’s tribe up in the Northeast, but Rebekah stayed silent. She ate her winterberry porridge in small bites, barely opening her mouth, and kept her eyes downcast.

It made Katara uncomfortable.

She knew women were held to stricter standards in the North, but this was ridiculous. She acted more like a pet than this man’s wife. Sometimes, when her gaze fell on Katara, the woman looked like she was screaming inside, her expression only barely composed. Katara couldn’t imagine being so confined within oneself. Even Kya tried once or twice to bring her into conversation, but she only said what was necessary and then let Kanook take over. He hardly ever acknowledged his wife, especially when he was talking about her.

“Yes, Rebekah has given me three children. Two boys and a girl. They’re strong boys, confident, a bit wild,” he laughed with Katara’s father, the two of them sharing some secret male camaraderie. Sokka was practically drooling over them across the table.

“But they will be strong leaders,” he continued. “Competent chieftains.” Katara could’ve sworn she saw Kanook’s eyes flicker to her, and it took everything she had not to meet them with a glare. So the rumors were true. The Northerners thought she was incapable of leading her nation.

“My son is a skilled hunter and swordsman,” Hakoda said, his chest puffing with pride. “He often joins me in the waroom.”

“Ah, will you be joining us tomorrow, Sokka?” Kanook asked conversationally.

Sokka grinned. “I wouldn’t miss it.” Then he looked at Katara, perhaps to gloat, but it caught the Chief’s attention.

“And you, Princess? I imagine you have far more important things to do than sit in a boring old war meeting,” he said, smiling condescendingly, and Katara felt her stomach twist. Out of the corner of her eye she saw her mother stiffen, hands balled into fists on her lap.

Katara lifted her chin. “As a matter of fact, I will be in attendance. As future Empress of the Water Empire I find it important to be involved with such proceedings.” Katara didn’t miss the flash of irritation cross the man’s face. She held back a smug grin. Even though she could feel the anger and embarassement rolling off of her father in palpable waves, she couldn’t help but be pleased with herself. She would pay dearly later, but for now she relished in the Chief’s humbled silence.

 

Zuko intercepted her as she was leaving the dining hall, hurrying from the room to avoid her father’s wrath. He pulled her behind a pillar at the end of the hall, hiding them from view, and pressed close to her, so close she could feel the heat from his body intermix with her own. It was at once unexpected and thrilling.

“Can I meet you tonight?” he asked, seeming agitated, even though he looked happy.

“Um, sure?” she said, though it came out as a question. She was still flustered from their proximity. He gave her a half-grin and squeezed her hands, which he held between his.

“Good.”

And then he was gone. Katara waited for five seconds before emerging from behind the pillar, and by the time she looked down the hall, he had already passed through the doors.

 

* * *

 

The palace was crawling with nobles. It seemed like in the past few hours since he’d seen Katara, they had multiplied like insects, invading every empty space in the palace, even the third floor. He had seen them turning up their noses at the state of the dining hall and the servant’s quarters, as if his home was an exotic attraction to observe, like tourists at a traveling circus.

Zuko hated them.

He had thought the Southerners were bad, but the Notherrners were even worse. They were rich, entitled, elitist snobs, and he wanted them out of the palace and out of his life. But they were guests, and according to the Emperor, were to be treated as such. So Zuko had to reign in his emotions and bite his tongue when four people— _four_ _people at four separate times_ —asked him to bring them some cactus juice, which he had to politely refuse, seeing as that wasn’t his job. He couldn’t keep track of the number of nobles who got “lost” and demanded directions to to the guest quarters which, he told them with as much amiability as possible, were on the first floor.

The only thing that made him feel slightly better were the hiliarious impressions his friends did of the nobles behind their backs.

Well that, and the fact that he was going to see Katara that evening.

She’d seemed concerned when he cornered her earlier which, in her defense, was only natural. He knew he was acting strangely. His conversation with Toph had shaken him. It felt _odd_ knowing that he was responsible for the protection of the royal family while she organized the coup, which he still had no idea how she was going to do.

“The less you know, the better,” she told him the night before. He had argued, of course—how could it be better for him not to know the very plan he was helping to execute? —but she was not one for neogiation. Or common courtesy, for that matter. She had threatened to give him a rock swirly if he didn’t drop it, and he, not knowing what a “rock swirly” entailed and not wanting to find out, had acquiesced.

But ever since learning Katara was in danger, he didn’t want to let her out of his sight. He knew this was unreasonable—her brother’s servant hanging around all the time would be more than suspicious—but she wasn’t safe. He was still debating that evening, only half an hour before he was going to meet her, whether or not he should tell her what was going on. Toph hadn’t explicitly said _not_ to tell Katara. She had made it clear that her involvement in the White Lotus and her plan for the coup were to remain secret, but other than that the rules of their situation were blurry. He didn’t want to worry Katara, either. If it turned out that Toph’s claims of danger within the capital were unjustified, he would feel bad about making Katara worry in the first place. He decided it was probably best to keep it to himself.

So when he met Katara in the stairwell that evening, after he had dinner with Orchard and Jin, and after he trained with Sokka, he kept his mouth shut. She brought him to her room, the only place they could really be alone, and they laid on her bed. Katara was upset about a conversation she’d had at breakfast with one of the Chiefs from the North.

“I mean, the _gall!_ The _arrogance!_ Who is he to say whether or not I can be a good ruler? He had never even _met me_ before today!” She threw her arms on the bed, making it jostle, and Zuko had to hold back a laugh. This definitely was not the time. She’d probably bend him to the wall if he upset her now. But when she was like this—lying beside him, venting about her problems with that little wrinkle between her eyebrows—Zuko felt light. He felt like laughing. Just the fact that he was somehow in this exact scene was unbelievable, and yet it was everything he wanted.

She must have seen the little smile on his face, though, because she frowned and hit him with a pillow.

“It’s not funny!”

“Ow!” He complained, his laughter overtaking him. “Yeah, this guy had better watch out or you’ll batter him with a feather pillow.”

She hit him again, a fake frown on her face, and he grabbed the pillow and threw it back at her, sending her into a fit of giggles and snorts, which made him laugh harder in turn.

After a few minutes they calmed down, and the room turned quiet again, quiet enough to hear the crackling of the candles Katara had lit before he showed up. Under any other circumstances, he might think it was romantic. But when he looked over at her and saw her staring up at the ceiling, her serious expression slowly returning, he sighed. She didn’t think of him that way. They were friends, and that’s all they’d ever be. That’s all they _could_ be, for so many reasons.

But he’d rather have that than nothing at all.

Besides, she didn’t see him as anything other than a friend, her brother’s servant, a sometimes-confidant. And just because he was willing to forsake his entire mission to protect her didn’t mean he loved her or anything. He cared for her, sure. She was his best friend here. The time they’d spent trying to ignore each other had been the toughest he’d been through, so far, other than being separated from Roz.

It didn’t hurt quite as much anymore to think of the boy. How long had it been—weeks? Months? There hadn’t been an execution (that he knew of, at least), so he was pretty sure that Roz was still alive. But he was in the Pit, and Zuko couldn’t imagine how terrible it was, how lonely Roz must feel. 

Zuko crossed his forearms under his head. He hadn’t felt comfortable broaching this particular subject, especially with their fragile friendship only recently being restored, but things had been going well. And since she didn’t seem to be under her father’s control anymore, maybe she would be more openminded than she used to be.

“Katara, can I ask you something?”

 She murmured yes.

“What are you going to do about the prisoners in the Pit?”

She looked at him, and he could tell that she hadn’t expected him to know about the ice prison. Did she remember that she’d been the first person to speak of it, when she sent an innocent man—and hundreds more—there to rot? The thought made his mouth taste sour. Zuko had also done his own research, asking the servants and staff about the isolated prison on the outskirts of the Southern Empire, a place none of them had ever seen, but had heard of. From what he’d learned it was a terrible place. No one ever returned from it. No one got out.

“It’s not really any of my business,” she said softly.

Zuko sat up. “Of course it’s your business. You’re the Princess. You’re going to be the Empress. You can do something about it.”

He expected her to get angry, to shout at him or something, but she remained quiet and still, like a statue. He might have thought she didn’t care about the prisoners, didn’t care that they were wasting away their lives in a cage of ice. The tears welling up in her eyes were her only give-away.

“Katara, I’m not trying to upset you.”

“Why don’t you hate me?” she asked suddenly. Zuko pulled back, surpised. It was perhaps the last thing he expected her to say.

“Why would I hate you?” He didn’t hate her. He hated her father. He was the one who had killed so many people, who had thrown them into prison. He had forced her hand.

Her lips quivered. “You could have been one of them. If I were you, I would hate me.”

Zuko let out a breath and flopped back down to the bed. He felt it shift as Katara moved closer, their shoulders touching, her hair tickling his exposed arm. Without thinking he took a lock of it and twirled it around his finger like a piece of thread, stopping just before it pulled taut enough to hurt her.

“I could have been one of them, but I wasn’t. You saved me.”

Katara chuckled once. “No, actually, I didn’t. Sokka stopped them from taking you to the Pit.”

Zuko thought back to that day, the last time he had seen Roz’s face, waking up in the prison below the palace days later. “True,” he acknowledged, “but you stopped them from killing me. You stood up to your father for me.”

Katara shrugged, rubbing against his shirt. “I guess so.”

“See? You have the power to make change, Katara. You are strong enough.”

She looked over at him, her eyes wide and watery, and Zuko realized they were only inches apart. Her breaths interlaced with his, and his eyes traveled down her forehead to her nose to her lips, parted slightly, breathing unevenly. When he looked back up she was still staring at him, her eyes communicating something he couldn’t understand.

“Thank you, Zuko,” she breathed out.

Afraid of what he might do next, he turned his face to the ceiling, trying to cool the heat that had risen to his cheeks. Everything seemed dimmer now, as if the candles had gone out, even though they still burned against the darkness. “You’re welcome.”

* * *

 

_You’re welcome. You’re welcome. You’re welcome._

Those two words, so simple, so congenial, had been running trenches into Katara’s mind all morning. What had she expected? It’s not like he would have done anything. Even though the moment, the mood, absolutely everything was perfect…

No. He didn’t think of her like that. And she couldn’t think of him like that. It was childish, not to mention dangerous. She could only imagine what her father or Sokka would do if they found out she actually had feelings for a servant, much less one from the Fire Nation. Katara shook her head as if she could physically force the idea out of it.

She had too much on her plate today to be thinking about Zuko and his confusing mixed signals, anyway. Today was the long-awaited Supreme War Summit.

            The nobles had been filtering into the war room for the past fifteen minutes, and it was gradually filling up as they took their places around the rectangular ice table. Hakoda, Sokka, and Katara were seated at the end of it. Katara was to her father’s right, sandwiched between him and his high war advisor, a fat, ugly man named Norvid whom she could not believe had been in a war, nonetheless survived it. He was currently asking the man beside him why compasses couldn’t point South.

Finally, it seemed that everyone had arrived, and the guards closed the tall wooden doors, locking them in the room and everyone else out of it.

            All in all, there were about 100 nobles; all men, all above the age of 20 sitting before Katara, staring at her with judgmental silence.

            Okay, so they weren’t all staring just at _her_ , but in her general direction, and more than a few were definitely glaring at her. She’d heard plenty of disgruntled rumblings among the Chieftains of both the North and the South about her eventual assumption of the throne. Even though the Southerners were usually more accepting of her title (though they still didn’t like it), it seemed as if the Northerners prescence stirred up grudges she had thought were resolved.

            She pretended not to notice. If she confronted any of them about it, she would only get condescension or bitterness. And she couldn’t count on her father’s defense. He agreed with the nobles, that she wasn’t fit to rule, but couldn’t go back on his decision now. It would look weak on his part.

            The only solution was to prove herself once she became Empress. Until then, she would have to ignore their snide remarks and disgusted glances. The worst people were the ones who simply refused to make eye contact with her, to even acknowledge that she existed. These were also the people who treated their wives like dirt, so Katara didn’t have a high opinion of them in the first place.

            The women were all with Kya, who was giving a demonstration of the Southern style of healing. As far as Katara knew, there wasn’t a significant difference between the Southern and Northern styles, but it’s not like there was much else for the women to do. Katara hated how restricted they were, but it was a different kind of life, and she had to accept that. _No_ , she amended, _I cannot accept that. But I must tolerate it, at the very least_.

            At that moment, Hakoda raised a hand and the scattered conversations that had been occurring stopped at once.

            He waited before speaking, his eyes dancing over the crowd. And then he smiled. “Welcome, brethren from the North and South.” His voice rang out with pride, capturing the attention of the room like a spell.

“We have all gathered here together because it is time to _end this war_.” His words were met with a series of hoots and exclamations that echoed around the chamber. He held up a hand again and the men grew silent, watching him with rapt attention.

            “The Water Empire is the strongest nation in the world. We have the most cunning generals, the most powerful benders, and the purest hearts. This world has fallen to corruption, and thus to ruin.”

            A few grunts broke out and the closest nobles nodded solemnly. Katara noticed Sokka’s head bobbing along with them.

            “We must cleanse the other nations of these impurities. The only way to do this is through conquer. We have already defeated the Air nomads and the Earth Kingdom. But the Fire Nation continues to resist.” There was a pregnant pause brimming with energy. Katara could feel the anticipation tugging on the top of her head; the hairs on her arm stood on edge. The Emperor’s voice shook with passion as he said, “On this day, I ask you, my brothers, to stand with me. I issue a call to action!”

            This time, the noise continued without interuuption for a full minute. Some nobles pumped their fists and others even stood up to slap each other on the back. Katara just watched, trying to keep her expression blank.

But she was terrified.

She knew this was going to happen. Put 100 battle-worn chieftains together in one room, give them an inspiring speech, and it was like a runaway train. Once an idea took hold, it took complete control, and no one could stop it. She glanced at her father, who was looking out over the crowd, apparently pleased with the chaos he had ignited. She feared what he might say next, not only because she knew it would be violent, but also because she knew the nobles would blindly go along with it.

            “Brothers!” her father yelled over the clamor. “Follow me, and I will lead you and our people to an era of prosperity and power! No longer will we be threatened by those who are foolish enough to challenge us. We will take their resistance and stuff it down their throats. And the Water Empire will rise and conquer _once and for all_!”

            Katara watched in horror as the room exploded. The nobles looked as if they were ready to go to war right at that moment, jumping around and pushing each other, screaming war cries and jutting their swords and spears in the air. Her father remained sitting, though the look on his face was a frightening mix of elation and superiority. Sokka was leaning forward, gripping the edge of the table as if it was the only thing keeping him from joining the festivities.

            And, even though she hated to admit it, part of Katara wanted to join as well. Part of her wanted to feel the thrill of impending victory, to know without doubt that she was on the side of right, that she would lead her country to a better future. Perhaps at one point in time, she would have. She would have thrust her fist into the air and let out a wailing battle cry, and maybe her father would have been proud of her. Maybe she would have seen that this was what she had to do—what the world had to do—to survive.

            But all she could see was death. Violence, sadness, loss. And she saw Zuko’s face. He was proof that the Fire Nation was not evil, that the Empire’s prejudices were not elemental, but learned. A war was not the answer to their problems. In fact, it would only create more.

Because if the Fire Nation fell, it would fall in blood.

And ashes.


	32. Chapter 32

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so I finally got something up. I know, I know, it's been like 3 weeks. But I have good excuses (notice: excuse(S), plural!). So the last 3 weeks have been bad. Like, just terrible, horrible weeks. I had 0% motivation to write, like, negative motivation (although I really appreciated all of your feedback, and that's what forced me to update today). And then last week was midterms and I was up until 1 or 2 every night (which is bad for me) plus I have an internship and I'm really behind in my work for that. Also, my mom had surgery (she's fine-don't worry) but I was fretting about that. So the end of February was just not fun. 
> 
> Now I'm on Spring Break! But now I'm also sick! Literally, it started on Saturday and it hit me so hard today. I'm sitting here breathing through my mouth because my nose is all clogged, my throat feels scratchy and gross, and the light from my laptop is hurting my eyes. But I managed to update, so I'm patting myself on the back for that one.
> 
> In conclusion, thank you for being so patient. I really do appreciate it. And thank you for your comments and analyses of my story, because they give me life. Literally. I hope you like this chapter. It's not too exciting, but the next few chaps will be. I love you guys!!! <3
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing, yada yada yoda ;)

 

* * *

 

Katara had been avoiding him all day. Zuko tried to talk to her after breakfast, during class and after, but she had always made some fake excuse. And he knew they were fake because one of them was that she had to “wash her porcupine-cat.” He thought maybe she was angry at him for last night, even though he hadn’t done anything.

“Maybe that’s the problem, Hotpants,” Toph had said at dinner when he brought it up.

“What do you mean?” he had asked, honestly confused, but Toph had just rolled her eyes and patted his cheek. “It’s a good thing you’re pretty, because you’re an idiot.” Coming from Toph, he didn’t think there was a compliment anywhere in there.

Jin hadn’t been much help either. He sat with her after class as she finished her dress, embroidering flowers on the sleeves. He hadn’t told her _everything_ , just that he and Katara had talked the night before and now she wouldn’t even look at him.

“You probably said something stupid.”

Zuko gaped. “Why would you assume that!?”

She just shrugged, and Zuko groaned, dropping his head to the table. “I’ll never understand girls.”

Finally, she set down her sewing and leaned against the table, poking his forehead until he looked up at her, his chin resting on his arms. “What exactly did you say?”

Zuko rolled his eyes. “How am I supposed to remember—”

“ _Zuko_.”

“Fine. I think I said she was strong, or something like that.”

Jin gave him blank look.

“What?”

She shook her head, sadly. “You’re so odd, Zuko. Whatever. What did she say after that?”

Zuko tried to remember what had happened even though, honestly, the entire night was kind of murky. He remembered more how happy he felt than what he had said. “‘Thank you’ I think?”

Jin nodded, considering this. “Alright. Then what did you say?”

“You’re welcome.”

Jin waited. When it became obvious that he had nothing else to say, her expression fell. “’You’re welcome.’ That’s what you said.” It wasn’t a question.

“Yeah?”

“Are you _kidding_ me?!” Jin exclaimed, hitting his shoulder.

“Hey!” Zuko complained, though it hadn’t hurt. The memory of Katara hitting him with the pillow flashed across his eyes and he couldn’t help the swell of warmth that bled into his chest. “What’s wrong with that?”

She didn’t answer; instead, she picked up her dress and thread and stepped away from the bench. “You are such an idiot.”

“Why does everyone keep saying that?” he grumbled as she left the room, the door swinging behind her.

 

Zuko finally caught up to Katara late that night, after he had sparred with Sokka. She was in the room where they had first met— _really_ met, not under the gaze of her father or weight of her title. She sat cross-legged on the floor with a pot of water. He only waited a few seconds before he entered, watching her hand guide the water in complicated patterns.

“Katara,” he said as he turned the corner. The stream stilled mid-air when she looked at him. He was surprised to see a flash of fear in her eyes before they flickered away, re-focusing on the water. He sat down in front of her and waited for her to finish whatever she was doing, which was fine with him, because he still found her bending beautiful. It was different from firebending; with his own element, it was all about ferocity and strength, overpowering your opponent with sheer will.

Water was different. He got the same feeling watching her control it as he had felt during their dance. Her bending was the movement of energy; the push and pull. It was the moon and the tides, curving and adapting. The water weaved in and out of her fingers as if it were the most natural thing in the world, and once again, Zuko was captivated. But then she finished, and the water dripped back into the pot, becoming motionless once more.

She looked up at him. “Hi.”

A smile tugged at his lips. “Hi.” She just stared at him, her expression blank, and once again he found himself wondering what he had done wrong. He could swear he felt the word ‘idiot’ seared across his forehead.

“How are you?” he asked.

“Alright.”

_That’s it?_ Zuko watched her dig out dirt from underneath her fingernails. Something was off. She seemed…agitated. Her fingers began to move faster, scraping harder, and Zuko clasped his hands over hers.

“Katara. What’s wrong?”

Finally, she met his gaze and tears gathered in her eyes, making the blue sparkle like the sun on the ocean.

“I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you today. I just—I couldn’t.”

“Why not?” he asked, still acutely aware of their intertwined fingers. Katara looked away, obvious pain on her face. He couldn’t be the cause of it—could he?

_You idiot. You really must have messed up whatever it is you messed up._ “Whatever I did, I’m sorry,” he said preemptively.

To his surprise, she laughed. It was a sad, hollow laugh, but one nonetheless. She pulled her hands away only to wipe away the tears that had never actually fallen. Then she was able to give him a small smile. “It’s not your fault. You’re the very last person I could blame for this.”

Zuko had to admit that it was a relief to know he wasn’t at fault, but he was still confused. “For what? You know you can tell me.”

She sighed. “I know. I have to tell you. And that’s what makes it so hard.” She stood up, straightening her tunic and pants, and only then did Zuko realize that she had been training.

“Were you with your father?”

“Yes.”

“Are you okay?” Zuko asked cautiously.

Katara gathered her hair into a bun and secured it with a strap of leather. “Yes. Would you like to see what I’ve learned? I’ll be performing at the feast tomorrow.”

She was still avoiding whatever it was she had to tell him, but he said yes anyway, and she moved to the center of the room. The water along the walls glowed light blue and Katara took a few deep breaths before lowering herself onto one knee, her head down and arms extended.

Then she stood and water came rushing towards her from all angles, coming together in a swirling sphere above her head. She lunged right, then left, and the water followed, splitting into two streams that wove together, dancing like a pair of dragons.

It reminded Zuko of tales he had heard from his Uncle about the last remaining dragons, Ran and Shaw, protected by the Sun Warriors. They were said to live in the high mountains, but no one living had ever seen them.

Katara brought the two streams together again and directed it towards the vases against the wall, ending the performance with a bow.

She laughed when Zuko started clapping.

“Stop it!” she chuckled, flinging the water from her wet hands at him. “So what did you think? I mean, it’s not perfect, and that’s not even all of it, but I’ve got the basics down and I have better control of the second movement, so—”

“Katara,” Zuko cut her off, putting his hands on her shoulders. “It was great. You’re going to be amazing.”

Her cheeks darkened. “Thanks. I’m still really nervous.”

“You have no reason to be. Trust me.” He smiled in a way that he hoped was comforting, but inside he had his doubts. Of course her performance would be flawless, but she’d be in a room full of old Water Tribe geezers who thought a woman’s place was only in the kitchen or delivering babies. They’d be critical of her no matter what. Of course she knew this. But he could at least try to calm her fears.

The thought brought him back to whatever had been bothering her earlier. He hated to see her so upset, but he needed to know.

“About what you were saying before,” he started, wringing his hands. She licked her lips and he could tell she had been hoping to forget the subject altogether.

“Right. That.” Katara darted to the entryway, peering around the corner, then slowly made her way back to where he stood waiting. “What I’m about to tell you could put you in serious danger, Zuko. No one can know that I told you this.” She looked up at him through her eyelashes, begging for his understanding.

“Okay,” he said, giving it to her.

 

XXXXXX

 

_Dear Mother,_

_It’s me. I am writing with urgent news, and I pray to the spirits that you receive this letter in time. There is a good chance it will get intercepted, but if by some chance it makes it to you, burn it as soon as you’ve read it. I don’t want to know what would happen should it fall into the wrong hands._

_Roku is in danger. You must see to it that he is constantly supervised. He has enemies in the Water Empire that wish him harm. You all do. Please, for his sake and my sanity, hire more guards. Trustworthy ones. Thin out the waitstaff and the servants. You never know who could be a spy._

_I have it on good authority that the capital is in danger. I cannot tell you more than that, but believe me when I say that I am doing everything I can to keep you all safe._

_You can’t imagine how much I miss you all. Give father my love._

_May the spirits reunite us soon._

_Your son_

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Katara held the thin envelope in her hand underneath her travelling cloak. It had been in her pocket earlier, but she didn’t want to take any chances. It would be too easy for a pickpocket to steal it or for a gusty breeze to wrench it out of her grip.

She tugged her hood farther down her forehead as she waded out into the crowd of townspeople. The market was surprisingly busy for so early in the morning. Katara was glad she had worn older clothing—it was less conspicuous, and she could not afford to be noticed today.

A man offered Katara a basket of bread and she waved him off politely, keeping her face down. She knew The Golden Temple was just ahead by the pattern of shops that lined the street: the fish market owned by Mrs. Kopple, the cobbler, another fish market, and finally Nuk’s Weapons and Wine.

The jangle of a windchime signaled her entry into The Golden Temple where she finally dropped her hood. The tea shop was practically empty and anyone there was engrossed in conversation, so they hardly noticed her as she made her way to the back room. Lilit, who was bent over the washbin with a teacup in her hand, looked up as soon as Katara moved aside the curtain that separated the rooms.

“Katara!” she exclaimed, a smile running the length of her lips. As per usual, the short woman enveloped Katara in a hug which she returned enthusiastically, but briefly.

“I have something important to talk to you about.” She cast an eye at the room behind them. “Can we talk privately?” Lilit looked concerned, but didn’t question her. Instead, she led her to a back room off the side of the main shop. It was small, and dark, but extravagantly decorated with deep red cloth and sparse golden light. Candlelight glinted off jewels that hung in sparkling lines from the ceiling to the floor and draped over two plush, maroon chairs. Lilit gestured for Katara to take one of them.

“Lil, this is beautiful.”

She smirked. “This is where my more…respectable clients dine. It’s where your parents met, actually.”

“Really?”

“Oh, yes. The Emperor came to The Golden Temple shortly after he took the throne and I assigned your mother to be his server. The two of them ended up staying back here well into the evening, talking to one another.”

Katara had never heard this story. As far as she’d been told, Hakoda had approached Kya’s father for her hand in marriage after learning she was the most beautiful woman in the South (which was true, but Katara had always thought this was an awfully shallow reason to court a woman, if you could call that courting). But this story…well, this seemed more normal. More…human. She wondered why her mother never told her.

“Didn’t you have something to talk about, dear?” Lilit asked, interrupting her thoughts.

“Yes! I do. I need you to send something for me.” Katara pulled the letter from her cloak. It was an unassuming parchment, not adorned with a seal or anything, no writing on the outside. No one should be suspicious of it. “If I send it from the palace unauthorized, I know it’ll be followed. And I can’t exactly tell the hawk officer where it’s going.”

She placed the letter into Lilit’s hand, and the woman observed it for perhaps a moment too long. “And where _is_ it going?”

Katara bit her lip. She had hoped Lilit wouldn’t ask. “Lilit, please. You cannot tell _anyone_. It’s very important that that letter arrives safely.”

“You know you can trust me, Katara. But if you’re in trouble….”

“No. It’s not about me. I swear. It’s going to—” she lowered her voice “—the Fire Nation.”

Katara had been very careful about what she told Zuko. While she knew he would never do anything to hurt her or her family, she did not know if his loyalties still lay with the Fire Nation. It was his home, after all, and she understood that. That’s what made her tell him in the first place.

_“The Fire Nation is in danger,” Katara said slowly, gauging his reaction. Other than a slight narrowing of the eyes, he seemed unperturbed._

_“The Fire Nation is always in danger in this war,” Zuko replied, as if this wasn’t new information. “There’s always the threat of attack.”_

_“But this isn’t a threat. Attack is imminent.”_

_This got his attention. “What do you mean?”_

_Here was the tough part. During the meeting with the Chieftains she had bit her tongue so hard to keep from speaking out that her mouth had filled with blood. But she had assumed_ someone _else would disagree, point out that this plan was too risky, too malicious. Kill the Fire Lord_ and _his heir? Exterminate the entire royal family? It was too much; they were going too far. But no one stopped it. The motion was passed. The Fire Nation would be conquered from the inside out._

_“The plan has been approved for the attack on the Caldera. It will begin soon.”_

_Zuko took a step towards her. “What are they planning?”_

_“Zuko,” she hesitated. “You have to understand how dangerous it is for you to know this...how dangerous it is for me to tell you. If anyone found out….”_

_“They won’t, Katara. But I need to know, please. My family is in Cal—in the Capital._ Please, _Katara.”_

_His hands gripped her shoulders, not painfully, but desperately. She understood where he was coming from. He wouldn’t be there to protect his family when the time came. She’d never been in that position, but she understood. She would do anything to protect her mother, even Sokka, if they were threatened._

_“They’re targeting the royal family, Zuko. The Fire Lord and his heir.”_

_Zuko’s eye widened. “His heir? But how? How did they find out…?”_

_“Apparently my father has spies in the palace. They were trying to keep him a secret.”_

_Zuko’s hands fell to his sides. He looked as if he were going to be sick._

_“I’m so sorry, Zuko. It’s disgusting. He’s just a child, for La’s sake! He’s not a threat, and_ I _know it, but they don’t understand how—”_

_“Wait,” Zuko stopped her, holding up a finger. “A child?”_

_Katara nodded, confused. “Yes. The last heir of the Fire Lord. Prince Roku.”_

Although he had tried to hide it, Zuko was livid after learning her people were planning on assassinating a child. He’d only gotten more upset when she told him the rest of the plan, how they would take out the royal family and move outwards from there, slowly taking over the rest of the Capital City. Once the Empire had control of the harbor, they could begin the attack on the entire country. She’d been hesitant to offer, but her conscience had won out, and she gave Zuko a piece of parchment to send to his family. She suggested he send them to the Earth Kingdom, which was already under Empire control, where they would be safe as Fire Nation refugees.

She hadn’t read his letter, of course. She trusted him enough to know he wouldn’t do anything to incriminate either of them. She only hoped Lilit would trust her enough to not ask more questions; questions she just couldn’t answer.

“Katara,” Lilit started, hesitation clear in her eyes.

“Please.” She closed her hands over the woman’s. Her knuckles dug into Katara’s palms as she leaned forward. “Please do this one thing for me.”

Lilit held her gaze. The woman was many things—fierce, strong, courageous. She was always there for her friends, always willing to go the extra mile. However, she was _not_ a traitor. And although she didn’t like the Emperor, she loved her country. If she knew what was in that letter—Katara assumed—she would not be okay with it.

“Please.”

Lilit sighed and her head fell to her chest. In this lighting her brown hair appeared golden-red, bright and full of vitality, but her face was dark and deep-set wrinkles betrayed her age. Katara wondered how many of those wrinkles she’d developed worrying over Kya, maybe even over herself.

“Fine. I’ll send it out with a hawk in the morning.”

The weight of an iceburg melted from Katara’s shoulders. “Thank you, Lilit,” she said, getting up to hug her. Lilit patted her arm.

“Just promise me that you’re being careful, Katara.” Katara pulled back to look at her, and she continued. “I don’t know what business you have in the Fire Nation, but whatever it is, it can’t be good.”

She didn’t know how to respond to that last part, so she didn’t. “I promise I am being careful, Lilit. Thank you so much.”

Unexpectedly, Lilit smiled and shook her head. “You’re becoming more and more like your mother everyday, child. You’re the only two people in this world able to manipulate me like that.”


	33. Chapter 33

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I really don't have any excuse for why this is like 2 weeks late lmao. Except that it was my birthday on friday so I was super busy this weekend and also I actually had to write this chapter. I wrote most of this story in the summer when I had more time, but I skipped this chap...I'm nearing the point when I'll have to start writing more, but hopefully I'll be able to keep up. Anyway, enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own avatar. I wish. Man, do I wish.

* * *

 

He needed to firebend.

Zuko paced the floor of the servants’ quarters, his hands clenched at his sides, skin flushed and burning with the fire that raged underneath it.

He had come so close to losing it after Katara told him about the Emperor’s plan. He hoped he hadn’t given anything away. His response was probably pretty normal for someone who just learned their home was about to be invaded and destroyed. Right?

Zuko let out a hot huff of air. Thankfully there was no one around this time of day, so the room was empty. Technically, he acknowledged, he should have been with Sokka. It was the weekend, so there weren’t classes, but the prince probably wanted to spar or sharpen their swords or something. But Zuko couldn’t face him right now, knowing what the prince and his father were planning.

He desperately wanted to bend, to release this pent-up frustration boiling inside of him, but he couldn’t risk it. Already he had leaned against a dresser and charred the wood black.

Zuko brought his hand up to his face. While he was writing the letter, he hadn’t been able to stop his fingers from shaking. The words were readable, but just barely. He’d been so angry he hadn’t slept at all that night, and whenever he closed his eyes, he saw his mother. She would be standing over a sink, or folding clothes on the bed, or sitting with Roku, so innocent and unknowing. And then he would see a person in blue clothing creep up behind her, and she would turn, shock and fear on her face, and—

He opened his eyes every time.

If his letter didn’t get to her in time…he couldn’t even begin to think about the consequences.

He wanted to stampede down the stairs to the Emperor’s room, grab him by the throat, and—and what?

There were plenty of generals and even more soldiers prepared and eager to attack the Fire Nation. He’d been naiive to think killing just one person would stop everything. Even if neither Katara nor Sokka took the throne, someone else would. If not in the Southern Empire, someone from the Northern Tribe. There was no easy solution. _Is there any solution at all?_

His hands started shaking again.

He groaned aloud and pinched the bridge of his nose. His uncle had taught him calming techniques to release his chi and quell his anger if he was ever in a position like this. But he had already burned through all the candles in the room, melted them down to the golden plates they sat upon. Puddles of cool wax spotted the ice floor.

It wasn’t just his mother Zuko was worried for. And his father could take care of himself, he knew. But Roku…he was just a kid. Zuko didn’t even know if he could bend yet. Since Azula and himself were benders, everyone assumed Roku would be as well. Genetics and all that stuff Zuko didn’t really care about. But when Zuko left the Fire Nation, Roku hadn’t even begun to show signs of bending abilities.

Of course, neither had Zuko at that age. Azula, being the firebending prodigy she was, had produced her first flame before she could even walk. But it had taken Zuko longer and, like most things, he learned from Azula. From watching her run around the courtyard shooting licks of fire at pigeonsquirrels and roasting lychee nuts.

Zuko remembered the first time he firebent. He was eight years old, sitting out by the turtle-duck pond after a grueling lesson with his father. Even though he couldn’t bend, he still met with his father every day to practice the basic stances so that, when he did bend, he’d at least have good technique, even if he was weak. Which he would undoubtedly be, since he would be years behind all the other benders.

That’s what his father said, anyway.

 

_Zuko curled up in a tight ball underneath the cherry blossom tree, his chin resting on his knees, tears streaming down his face_.

_“Zuko?”_

_He hadn’t heard anyone come outside. Ashamed, he wiped the tears away with the sleeve of his shirt, though he knew there would still be traitorous red marks._

_Ursa emerged from behind the tree and Zuko let out a sigh. She was the only one Zuko would ever be okay crying in front of. If it had been Azula or Iroh or—even worse—his father, he would have run away on the spot. As it was, Ursa crouched next to Zuko, tucking her long robes underneath her body, and leaned against his shoulder._

_“Zuko, what’s wrong?”_

_He merely shrugged. He was comfortable talking to her about stuff like this, but he didn’t feel like it at the moment._

_Ursa wasn’t about to let it slide._

_“Zuko, if you don’t tell me I’ll have to go to your father and ask. You don’t want that, do you?”_

_He shook his head, leftover tears blurring his vision, threatning to build up again._

_“So what is it?”_

_Zuko plucked a blade of grass and twirled it between two fingers. “I can’t firebend.”_

_He felt his mother squeeze his shoulder. “I know that, love. But you will, one day.”_

_“No I won’t!” he shouted, too loudly and sudden. Ursa leaned back. “Father says I’m weak, that I’ll never become a master like him, because I don’t want it enough.”_

_“You know he doesn’t really mean that. He’s only frustrated, just like you.”_

_“But I try_ so hard _.” Cue the tears. He tried to wipe them away again, but they kept coming from some faucet he just couldn’t seem to turn off._

_He did try hard. Every day he went to lessons and sparred with his father at an embarrassing disadvantage. But he did it anyway, and without complaint. Still, no fire._

_Get angry! his father would yell at him from across the room. Let your rage fuel your fire! Zuko was no stranger to anger, but everytime he got mad, it only seemed to block him up further. He’d shake with rage but feel cool as ice. He’d punch and kick the air with impressive technique, but just wake up the next morning with sore muscles and nothing to show for it._

_Ursa pulled him to her chest. “I know you do, love. I’m sorry this is so hard for you.”_

_“I’m so angry all the time.” He didn’t want to be. His anger just made his heart feel heavier. “Father tells me to channel that into fire, but all it does is make me tired.”_

_His mother was quiet for a minute. Zuko watched the mama turtle-duck swim the perimeter of the pond, her babies paddling behind her, trying to keep up. Baby turtle-ducks didn’t have to learn to swim, they just knew. It was programmed into their bodies, just like firebending was programmed into benders. Why, then, was it so difficult for him?_

_He didn’t like considering the alternative; that he would never be able to bend. That simply wasn’t acceptable. Although he knew his father would still love him, it would be a great dishonor for the Fire Lord to have a non-bender for a son. It would prove his genetic pool was weak, crippled. Zuko_ would not _consider the alternative._

_“Zuko…” his mother started, interrupting his depressing train of thought. “Fire isn’t simply anger.”_

_He scrunched his nose. “What do you mean?”_

_Ursa plaintively looked out over the pond. “When I was younger, living in Hira’a, my parents used to take me to festivals. We ate fireflakes and painted our own masks and met people from all walks of life. Do you know what my favorite part of the festival was?”_

_Zuko shook his head._

_“Benders from all over the Fire Nation and even the Earth Kingdom performed for the crowds, some of which swelled to the very edge of town. I remember watching the firebenders perform dances inspired by the ancient dragons. You learned about them in class, right?”_

_Zuko nodded. That was his favorite lesson. His uncle had even visited them to talk about Ran and Shaw, dragons he had chased to the ends of the earth, but never caught._

_Ursa smiled gently. “Those firebenders were not fueled by their anger, Zuko. They were fueled by passion. Excitement. By love and beauty and joy. By the colorful history of the Fire Nation and the dragons from which we derive our own bending. With all of that, there was no room for anger or hatred. Do you understand what I’m saying?”_

_“That I don’t have to be angry to firebend?”_

_Ursa poked his nose, and Zuko laughed. “Exactly. Find whatever brings you joy, Zuko, and let that give you power.”_

_Sitting there, Zuko thought deeply. Off the top of his head, he couldn’t pinpoint anything that made him happy, that made him feel something other than anger._

_“If you could bend, Mom, what would you think of?”_

_Ursa looked down at Zuko, a strange expression on her face. As her eyes searched his, though, her expression softened, and she bent to place a soft kiss on his forehead. “Well, love, I would think about you. And your sister,” she added with a wink, making Zuko chuckle. Azula was still inside with their father; her lessons were right after his. Sometimes Zuko sat outside the training room and just listened to the roar of fire passing between the two of them, picturing himself joining in, able to hold his own. Sometimes he was so jealous of Azula and how easily firebending—and everything—came to her. And although she teased Zuko about it, she never made him feel bad about his shortcoming. Neither did his mother. Or Uncle, for that matter._

_“I guess…” Zuko began, staring at the grass. “I guess I would think about you. And Azula, and Uncle.” He paused. “Maybe even Father, too.”_

_Ursa smiled and told him that was beautiful. A few minutes later she left him in the courtyard and Zuko thought about their conversation. He was still skeptical that it would work, but he knew he had to try. So he took his place parallel to the pond and lowered himself into the first stance, feet firmly planted, arms locked. His eyes slid shut._

_In his mind he saw himself shift into the second stance, building up his chi as he moved into the third stance. And then, where he would usually conjure up anger at his inability to bend, jealousy over Azula’s skill, all the frustration he’d felt over the last eight years, he instead pictured his mother. She smiled at him, and then Azula appeared, jabbing him in the ribs with her elbow and grinning widely. In his mind Uncle Iroh spoke to him, and although he couldn’t hear what he was saying, Zuko was certain it was something about tea. Finally, his father appeared at Zuko moved into his final stance, and rather than anger, Zuko channeled his desire to please his father, to make him proud, to be someone his father could be proud of._

_A burst of heat warmed his face._

_Zuko’s eyes snapped open just in time to see a tail of glowing, orange fire dissipate into the air. His mouth dropped._

_“I did it?” he whispered to himself, gazing at his hands. There were no burn marks or anything, just an unfamiliar warmth tingling under the surface of his palms. “I did it!” he shouted, pumping a fist in the air. He moved through his stances once more, just to make sure he hadn’t made it all up. This time, with his eyes wide open, he saw the ball of fire erupt from his fist, more brilliant and powerful than he could have ever imagined. He couldn’t wait to show everyone._

 

In the servants’ quarters, Zuko had stopped pacing. He leaned against the wall and slid down to the floor, bare back grazing the wooden wall as his shirt bunched up. His hands were no longer shaking. He sat them on his knees, palms up, and watched as heat rose invisibly, distorting his view of the other side of the room.

“Fire isn’t simply anger,” he said quietly, feeling the warmth of heat brush his face like gentle fingers. He was still mad, of course, and he would remain so until his family and country were safe. But being impulsive and radical wouldn’t help anything.

First, he needed to find out if his letter got out.

Katara would be busy all day, he knew. Empress Kya was in charge of the feast that would be held later that night, and he had a feeling Katara would be helping her remain sane. Jin and Orchard had mentioned they were working the feast. Zuko decided to tag along and help so he could pull Katara aside and make sure everything went alright. _Besides,_ he thought with a smirk, _it would be rude not to watch the rest of her performance._

 

* * *

 

After a cup of ginger plum tea and a brief conversation to catch up, Katara left the tea shop. By then it was late afternoon, and the marketplace crowds had thinned to a smattering of people. Katara adjusted her hood and started down the street. She wasn’t _quite_ as concerned with being recognized as she had been earlier, but she couldn’t afford to be stopped for a length of time. She had to get back to the palace to help her mother prepare for the feast and to go over her routine once more. As she walked, Katara went over it in her head, seeing in her mind’s eye the steps and movements she would be performing in a few short hours. After she and Zuko parted the night before she had gone back to the training room and rehearsed again. She was determined to perform perfectly; she didn’t need to give the nobles another excuse to belittle her.

At the end of the street Katara turned left, intending to cut down an alleyway that would lead her back to the outer wall. In the shadows cast by the tall buildings around her the temperature dropped significantly, and she pulled her cloak tighter to her body. Underneath her cloak she was only wearing her training gear: a thin tunic and pair of leggings. Her hair was pulled into a braid that ran down to the small of her back, and she didn’t have on any royal regalia. Another precaution should she be caught to protect her identity.

_But it seems I didn’t need to worry about that,_ she thought, turning into another alley. No one had recognized her so far, and seeing as the letter was out of her possession, there was no danger of it being discovered. Lilit had seemed hesitant to do what Katara asked of her, but eventually agreed, which was really all she could ask for. Lilit didn’t break her promises, and Katara had total faith in her. She only hoped the hawk who would deliver the message would arrive at its destination safely. Air travel was the fastest way of communication, but also the most unreliable. Any number of things could happen: a storm over the water, capture by an enemy ship, illness or injury.

But there wasn’t anything she could do about it now.

Only as Katara neared the end of the alley did she notice a figure leaning against the stone wall. It seemed to materialize out of nowhere. At one moment it was just a shadow in the dark, the next it became a pair of men, eyes sharp as they stared straight ahead, but unmistakably tracked her movements. Katara slowed; she couldn’t keep going. They were definitely waiting for her.

As she stood there the two men moved, blocking the exit to the street. Taking a shaky breath, Katara ducked her head and turned around.

Two more men were waiting at the other end of the alley.

She’d been followed.

_Shit._

Katara looked at her surroundings with a sinking heart: she was trapped. The buildings on either side of her were made of solid stone, as was the ground. Over years of development the town had been transformed from entirely ice architecture to a mix of ice and stone to make it easier on the carts and animals that traded in the marketplace. Consequently, Katara was screwed.

She briefly considered dropping her hood. If these were simply common thugs, revealing her identity might dissuade them from attacking her. Her waterbending skill was known throughout the South, and if they had any sense, they would realize that even though it was four to one, they were outnumbered.

But if these weren’t common thugs, revealing her identity could be disasterous. And since she couldn’t know what their intentions were—to rob or kill or capture—she decided against it. Besides, she had purposely worn civilian clothing to conceal her title. They might not even believe her if she _did_ tell the truth. And if they did somehow managed to capture her, they could use her for ransom…or worse.

Katara’s heart sped up painfully when she realized that, as she’d been considering her options, the men had gained ground. They were only a few feet away, corralling her like an ostrich-horse.

Farther down the street there was a pile of snow, and Katara quickly called it to her, wrapping it around her body protectively. It wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing. Unfortunately, either the men were expecting her to be a bender, or it simply didn’t phase them, because they kept advancing. One man to her left shook his hand and Katara saw a blade portrude from his sleeve. It would be more difficult to ward them off when they were armed, especially if they were adept with weapons. She could only hope the rest of them were non-benders, too.

“Don’t come any closer!” Katara tried to shout, only to hear her voice crack with nerves. She ground her teeth, cursing herself. She hadn’t wanted them to know how afraid she was. _She_ hadn’t really known how afraid she was until now. All four kept coming, purring dangerous words into the air around her, faces contorted into sneers of victory.

_Fight,_ Katara commanded herself, and she lashed out with the stream of water at the closest man. It hit him in the side of the face and he stumbled out of formation. The other three barely registered his absence. Katara continued the stream around the circle, but one man dodged her attack and another surprised her by redirecting the water back at her.

_A waterbender_ , she realized as dodged the water’s path. She came back up with a row of ice daggers and threw them at two of her attackers: the waterbender simply threw them to the side and the other man—who had somehow procured a metal rod from somewhere—shattered the ice with a spin.

Katara heard a faint whistle behind her ear and ducked just as a dagger whizzed past her head. The other man had recovered and all four were encroaching on her, expressions malicious.

Without warning, the waterbender attacked as did the man with the daggers, and Katara dropped to the ground and rolled, barely standing up in time to block the blow from the metal staff. She lashed out with her leg, trying to trip him, but he flipped backwards, allowing the waterbender to attack once more. Katara broke the stream messily, splashing water all over herself, and turned around just before one of them came down on her. She flipped him over her back and sent him tumbling towards the wall.

She wasn’t fast enough to see the man with the staff coming at her again, and he connected with her stomach. She stumbled backwards and tripped over the man she had just downed. The force of the fall was enough to send her tumbling to the wall, and before she could catch her breath, the layer of water on her clothes was suddenly freezing, pinning her against the stone. Katara groaned out loud as her limbs locked in place, hands splayed against the wall, utterly useless. The waterbender came closer, and she could see his features more clearly. He hadn’t worn a mask and she took note of the scar running down his eye all the way to the corner of his mouth.

“Not so brave now, are you Princess?” he sneered, bending down to hover in front of her face.

_They know who I am,_ Katara realized with panic. The sun was beginning to set as the others recovered and joined their friend, and Katara longed to call out for help. But she knew how that would end: either in a gag or a swift blow to the head to knock her out, and neither would help her situation.

“What do you want from me?” she asked, sounding braver than she felt, if not a little winded. She struggled against the ice futilely, feeling for any weakness at all.

“We were hired by someone who wants you very badly,” the man mused, pinching her chin between his fingers, forcing her to look up at him. “We’re just holding up our end of the deal.”

“Who?”

He smirked. “If I told you that I’d be breaking our confidentiality agreement, and that wouldn’t be good for us, now would it boys?” The other men nodded in agreement. The one with the daggers looked downright murderous.

She glared at them. “Holding the Princess against her will isn’t too good for you either, you know.”

The waterbender released her face with a derisive laugh and backed away. This was her chance. Katara breathed down her chest, melting the ice, which would give her just enough room to slip out and free her arm and—

“Nice try, Princess. You think it’s gonna be that easy?” the waterbender said, one hand held towards her, freezing the ice again, extending it to her chin, rendering her motionless. Katara gulped with difficulty, completely stuck to the wall. The man turned his back again to confer with his pals, but Katara could barely hear them through the thunder of blood rushing in her ears.

_Blood. That’s it._

She only had one other option, and she was desperate. She silently cursed herself for being so weak that she had to resort to this.

Katara reached out, listened for the sound of the waterbender’s blood throbbing in his veins, pulsing, heavy water.

_You can do this, Katara. You_ have _to._

She locked on to him. She could feel it.

_Just do it!_

It would only take a single jerk of her head, and she’d be free. Taking out the others would be easy enough, even though she was exhausted.

_NOW!_

 

She couldn’t do it.

Her eyes slid shut in defeat, holding back hot tears.

Every muscle in her body tensed with the knowledge that she couldn’t do it, couldn’t bloodbend him. She was weak, and powerless, and pitiful, and was going to be captured, and probably die, and—

“Alright, I think it’s time to break up this little get-together. What do you say, gentlemen?”

Katara’s eyes snapped open. She recognized that voice.

_Toph._

The first thing she saw—the only thing she _could_ see, her head stuck in the way it was—were the four men looking at the end of the alley, confusion on their shadowed faces.

“Who the hell are you?”

“I should be asking you the same question,” Toph replied, and Katara struggled against the ice encasing her neck to see the girl standing to the side of the group with her hands on her hips.

The man with the staff twirled it and turned to face her. “Get out of here little girl. You don’t want us to hurt you.”

To Katara’s shock, Toph just laughed. “I’d like to see you try, Pole Boy.”

His eyes narrowed dangerously.

“Toph, what are you doing?” Katara croaked out.

Toph didn’t look at her, but said, “Quiet, Sweetums. I’m trying to help you out here.”

_She’s going to get herself killed._

“Last warning, kid,” the waterbender growled, already slipping into an offensive position.

In response, Toph drew her hands into fists, cracking the knuckles. “Bring it.”

 XXXXXX

Five minutes later, Katara held open her bedroom door for Toph who walked in, plopped down on her bed, and kicked off her shoes (which were mysteriously missing the soles—although, perhaps it wasn’t so mysterious, considering). Katara closed the door and turned around, arms crossed.

“Okay. Explain.”

Toph yawned, unconcerned. “Explain what?”

“Explain how you, a _blind girl_ , just took out four grown men, one of them a waterbender and at least two of the others skilled with weaponry, using earthbending _. Earthbending_! A _blind girl!_ ” It sounded impossible even to Katara, who had seen every second of it. The fight had been over before it even began. They all went at her at once, but she dodged their attacks like a master and hadn’t even broken a sweat. Once the waterbender had been taken out with a boulder to the gut, the ice holding Katara prisoner had melted, and Katara was fully ready to join in the fight. But Toph had already incapacitated two of the others and captured another in what looked like a cage of rock that wrapped around his entire body. Soon enough, the other three joined him.

Dumbfounded, Katara had found herself speechless until they reached the privacy of her room. Toph had tried to force their employer out of them, but they weren’t talking (the waterbender was still unconscious) and Katara hadn’t let her torture them. So after telling an officer in the marketplace where to find the four thugs, Toph let Katara drag her back to the palace.

Toph, still sprawled out on her bed, merely shrugged. “I think it’s pretty self-explanatory.”

“Um, no. It’s not, Toph. How do you know how to earthbend?”

“Badgermoles.”

“Ok fine, don’t tell me the truth.”

“I’m not lying.”

“ _Badgermoles,_ Toph? Really?”

Toph finally sat up just to glare at her. “Yes, really.”

“You’re blind, Toph.”

“I see with my feet.”

“ _Spirits_!” Katara cried, throwing her arms up. She obviously wasn’t going to get any real answers out of the girl.

“Believe what you want, Sugar Queen. But I’m telling the truth.”

Katara watched her poised on the bed, seemingly at ease, and decided to let it slide. “Let’s pretend you _are_ telling the truth. Why didn’t you tell me before?”

Again, a shrug. “Didn’t want any trouble, I guess.”

“With the guards.”

“Or with you.”

Katara was taken aback. “You think I would get you in trouble for this?” She’d been naiive enough to believe they were friends by this point, but apparently the feeling was not mutual.

“Your father can’t know what I’m capable of, Katara. You understand that, right?” Katara was fully prepared to argue when reality set in. If her father found out, it would not be good. The fact that she was able to hide her bending for all of this time would make him livid. She’d be thrown out of the palace or into the pit or worse. And even though Katara was upset with her, she didn’t want that.

“Alright, I understand. Is there anyone else who knows about you?”

She hesitated.

“No.”

“You’re lying.”

“No I’m not.”

“Toph,” Katara said, her voice a warning.

The girl sighed and rolled her eyes. “Fine. But you aren’t going to be happy about it….”


	34. Chapter 34

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good LORD this chapter was hard to write! Sorry that Zuko's half is more like 3/4 of this chapter, but I am just done with it. I wrote a first draft then I didn't like it so I scrapped it and I was super busy last week so just HERE, take this hot mess of words and feelings and word vomit. Also, thanks for being patient with me, loves <3 I have the next chapter basically written so it should be up sooner than this one was. Enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own avatar or its characters blaaaaaaah blah blah

 

* * *

 

            Zuko had been too busy serving the pompous nobles to talk with Katara. As he refilled the goblet of an old man with a long, scraggly beard the color of dirty snow, he shot a glance at her. She was sitting with her brother, mother, and father at the head table in the front of the room. There were two more couples at the same table, obviously Northern by their heavily adorned clothing and pinched faces that seemed to be constantly sneering. Katara was listening to a broad man in dark blue robes, but Zuko could tell she wasn’t at all interested in what he had to say. At that moment her gaze flickered out across the room and fell on him. Her eyes widened, then narrowed, and Zuko felt a chill run down his spine.

_What have I done now?_

She turned to her father, said something to him, then stood up.

            Zuko, who had been watching this whole exchange, hadn’t realized he was still pouring wine in the old man’s glass until he jumped back, swinging out his arms and knocking the jar out of Zuko’s grip.

            “You _stupid fire brat_!” the old man exclaimed, glaring at Zuko. “Look what you’ve done!”

            The man’s place at the table was saturated with dark red wine that had cascaded from the goblet, to the tablecloth, to his lap.

            Zuko stared, wide-eyed. “I-I’m so sorry, sir.” _Not really._ “I’ll go get some towels.” Zuko hurried out of the room to the utility closet down the hall where the staff kept extra towels and linens. But, as he was about to turn the corner, someone grabbed him from behind.

            Surprised, Zuko’s hands immediately grew warm with the quickening of his heart, ready to fight. But it was only Katara.

            “We need to talk,” she said, and pulled him around the corner.

            “Agni, Katara, you scared me.” He cast a glance around, making sure nobody had followed them. She was supposed to be at the feast and he was supposed to be getting towels. Surely someone was going to notice their absence.

            “Sorry,” she said half-heartedly. Then, “Is there something you’d like to tell me?”

            Zuko froze, all fear of getting caught together being overwhelmed by an entirely different kind of fear. _Don’t panic_ , he told himself. _There are plenty of things she could be hinting at. Don’t assume the worst._

            “I don’t know, is there?” he hedged. She rolled her eyes.

            “Don’t play stupid, Zuko.”

            “I’m not _playing_ stupid _,_ ” he shot back, only realizing after he said it that he’d insulted himself. Katara hadn’t noticed, thankfully.

            “You knew about Toph and didn’t _tell me_?”

            _Oh_ , he thought, relieved. _That. That’s not bad at all._ “You found out?”

            She sighed heatedly. “Yes, I found out. It was kind of hard not to when she was beating up the thugs that attacked me. It couldn’t really be avoided.”

            Zuko frowned. “You got attacked?”

            “That’s not the point. The point is, she told you and didn’t tell me. Why?”

            “She didn’t say—I mean, she didn’t tell you _why_ she told me?”

            Katara’s eyes narrowed. “No…should she have?”

            “No!” Zuko insisted, too quickly. She eyed him suspiciously. _Idiot._ “No, she—it’s just that, one day I saw her earthbend, you know, and she couldn’t really deny what I saw, so she told me. That’s all.” His rambling lie seemed to convince her, though she still looked upset. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, but it wasn’t really my secret to tell. You know how dangerous it would be if anyone found out….”

            “I know.” Katara glanced away, and Zuko’s heart finally slowed to an almost-human pace. He heard chattering down the hall towards the ballroom, but so far no one had ventured any further. This was a delicate conversation, and he didn’t want any inquisitive ears listening in. Katara was biting her lip, her face closed off, and Zuko put a hand on her shoulder.

            “Don’t take it personally. Seriously, you know how Toph is.”

            “Yeah. I guess so.”

            He didn’t _want_ to go back necessarily, but there was an angry Northerner with wet pants waiting to chew him out. And she was supposed to perform soon, anyway.

            “Is there anything else you need to talk about?”

            Katara shook her head, though she seemed upset.

            “Are you ready for your performance?”

            “I think so. I’m just nervous.”            

He squeezed her shoulder reassuraingly and said, “You’re going to be amazing, Katara.”

            A small smile cracked her stony expression. Zuko felt his chest warm.

            “Let’s hope the nobles are as generous as you.”

            _The nobles._ Those rich, stuck-up Northern snobs. Katara would be lucky if they didn’t heckle her out of the room. She had described in detail their behavior at the war meeting, how they had talked about the fire nation, the way they got each other worked up. It sounded absolutely terrifying, and now she was going to have to stand in front of them all, knowing what they thought of her. He wasn’t surprised to see apprehension all over her face.

            Impulsively, he took her hand. “If any of them say anything, just let me know and I’ll spit in their drink.”

            A laugh bubbled out of her throat and she pulled away to cover her mouth. She met his gaze with smiling eyes. “Promise?”

            “By my honor,” Zuko swore, putting his hand over his heart.

            “I’m holding you to that.” She winked and left him standing in the middle of the hall with a thundering heart. Zuko waited until she had disappeared down the hall—and his face stopped burning red—before he emerged and went back to the ballroom.

Jin intercepted him before he went to Old Beard Man and started mopping his crotch. “I took care of it. Kya thought it was best to reassign you to table 12.”

Grateful, and embarrassed, Zuko agreed at once. The nobles at table 12 had already finished eating, so Zuko filled their goblets and retired to the row of chairs in the back of the room where the servants who weren’t actively working could sit and wait to be useful again. Zuko chose a chair in the corner and made himself comfortable; he wasn’t planning on getting up for a while. A few moments later Orchard sat next to him, going on about some noble who had stubbornly insisted on boiled sea prunes, rather than steamed, and absolutely none that had been harvested with harvested with a non-organic net, which of course Jin didn’t know what kind of net had been used, and _blah blah blah._ Zuko eventually tuned her out, opting instead to watch Katara out of the corner of his eye as she took nervous sips of her water.

Jin was still talking a few minutes later when Katara got up and moved to the center of the room. The Emperor stood and silence instantly fell over the room. He briefly introduced Katara and announced that she would be performing a traditional Water Tribe dance. He hardly sounded enthusiastic, but Katara didn’t seem to notice. She was kneeling on the floor, her eyes trained downward, entirely focused.

            The Emperor returned to his chair and Zuko heard a few impolite snickers from men in the audience as Katara moved into her first stance. He made a mental note of which ones for later, when he refilled their drinks. However, a few seconds into her routine, the room went silent in awe.

            He had seen her perform part of the dance before in the training room. If he had thought it was beautiful then, this performance was indescribable. She moved with certainty and strength, the water heeding her every command subserviently. She showed no signs of nervousness or hesitation. Zuko was transfixed on her every motion. Orchard didn’t say a single word, which was a testament to Katara’s ability in and of itself. Most importantly, the nobles seemed to be struck speechless, too. As a stream of light blue water ran the length of the room, encircling a few tables in a complicated pattern, some of them even clapped. Katara pulled the water back around her and made it erupt like a volcano, striking Zuko with its familiarity despite being a completely different element. After what looked like a particularly complicated move, a small smile broke loose on Katara’s face, and Zuko’s chest swelled with pride. Not that _he_ could take any credit for what she was doing—simply because she was more incredible than she knew.

            A few moments later, Katara collected all the water into a gigantic, fluid ball that hovered above the crowd. Even though it looked effortless for her, Zuko couldn’t imagine the physical strain. With a flourish of her arms, the water blasted upwards, and then exploded into millions of snowflakes that gently floated down to the tables, dusting the guests in a fine layer of pure white snow. Orchard held out her hands to catch the tiny gems and even though it melted before it got anywhere near Zuko, he thought it was one of the most beautiful things he had even seen.

            Katara dropped to one knee, signaling the end of her performance. He expected the room to break out in applause. Instead, there was a beat of silence, a hesitation of praise, before one of the men at the head table—the one Katara had been talking to earlier—clapped softly. A short and gentle applause followed, and Zuko looked around incredulously.

            “They really won’t give her a chance, will they?” he said, mostly to himself.

            “I guess not,” Orchard replied anyway, her voice sad. She was clapping louder than any of the surrounding tables, and Zuko joined in with her.

            Katara stood slowly, her face unreadable. She gave a stiff bow and returned to her place at the table. She wouldn’t even look up. He knew she was upset, though she would never let the nobles know. Or her family, for that matter. Kya was speaking close to her, a hand on her shoulder, but Katara simply shook her head.

            Zuko felt his fists clench. He wanted to stand up and scream into the face of every single Northerner until his breath gave out. He settled for ‘accidentally’ overturning three more goblets of wine.

            Soon after, the royal family vacated the room and the rest of the guests followed them while the servants cleared and dismantled the tables to make room for dancing. Zuko snuck out with the last few nobles who filtered out into the hall and made his way down the servant staircase. He was supposed to meet up with Sokka soon to help him prepare for the ball, but he hoped he could catch Katara before anyone realized he was missing.

            The Emperor exited his room and Zuko pressed himself flat against the wall, hoping he would go the other direction. He peeked out after a few moments into the now-empty hall and made his way to Katara’s room. The guards, he knew, were waiting just around the corner to escort the rest of the royal family back upstairs, so he made sure he was quiet when he knocked on Katara’s door.

            To his surprise, she wasn’t the one to answer. Toph opened the door, and before he got even a word out, started closing it.

            “No boys allowed, Sparky.”

            He stuck his foot in between the door and the frame to keep it open, wincing when she just shoved it harder. “Agni, Toph, _really?!_ ”

            “Toph, cut it out,” he heard Katara say from inside. She appeared behind the girl wearing a thin robe wrapped tightly around her body, and pushed Toph aside.

“Sorry about that,” Katara said, closing the door behind her so they were alone in the corridor.

            “Are you okay?” Zuko asked, getting right to it.

            Katara nodded unconvincingly.

            “You were amazing. Honestly. Those Northern snobs are just prejudiced, sexist idiots.”

            She gave him a small smile, although it didn’t reach her eyes. “Thanks, Zuko.” Her arms were crossed over her chest, one of them holding her robe shut where it dipped low—

            Zuko looked away, fully aware of the blush across his face. “Um. So, you’re—uh—getting ready for the ball?” He wanted to punch himself in the face. _Can you sound_ more _stupid?_

“Yeah, Toph’s helping me. Speaking of,” she tilted her head, “aren’t you supposed to be with Sokka right now?”

            “Uh y-yeah,” he stammered, still unable to look at any part of her body without lighting up like a firecracker. “I guess I sh-should go. I just wanted to tell you that, you know…you did good.”

            He felt something touch his shoulder and finally peeled his eyes away from the wall. She squeezed his shoulder, full-out grinning. One hand was still wrapped around her ribs and the other was now on him, leaving the top of her robe ostensibly wilted. His whole face caught on fire.

            “Thank you. That means a lot to me.” With a knowing smirk she went back into her room, and Zuko fell against the wall, his eyes wide, stuck staring at nothing. He realized with a kind of pleased resignation that if he was going to go dumb every time she showed the smallest, most insignificant amount of interest in him, that he was seriously done for.

            A loud thud from down the hall made him jump and he turned to see Sokka peering at him from behind his door.

“Zuko? Is that you?” he screeched, his voice grating on Zuko’s ears. He sighed, mentally preparing himself for the next 30 minutes of dressing and undressing and complaining and arguing, but found, as he walked towards the Prince’s room with a spring in his step, that not even _Sokka_ could ruin his good mood.

 

* * *

 

“Toph, you’ve done enough, go away!” Katara yelled at the door, watching her reflection in the mirror struggle with a particularly tough knot. After she had closed the door on Zuko—her heart still fluttering from her boldness—she had rolled her eyes through a series of pointed innuendos from Toph. Then she had spent 20 minutes forcing her lady’s maid into a gown, telling her repeatedly that _no, she couldn’t wear pants_ and _no, she couldn’t go barefoot_. On a whim, she had asked her friend to help put her hair in a bun, but was now bitterly regretting that decision as she tried to undo the otter-penguin’s nest that was now her hair. _That’s what I get for asking a blind earthbender to help make me look nice._

Of course, the earlier events of the evening hadn’t helped her mood at all. Although seeing Zuko had alleviated some of her frustrations from dinner, she couldn’t shake the feeling of failure that had been hanging over her.

She wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting. That the nobles would be floored by her performance? Give her a standing ovation? Finally accept her as their future Empress? Sure, she had done well—she only messed up at the beginning the second movement, and it was hardly noticeable to anyone who didn’t know what to look for—but it hadn’t been a performance to heal thousands of years of prejudice. She was beginning to think there was nothing she could do to win them over, no matter what Zuko said.

She really did appreciate his support, though. Her mother had congratulated her similarly after she returned to her seat, and her father had even grunted some vague compliment at her before returning to his conversation with Kanook, but none of it was enough to ease her discomfort. Toph had simply told her to “suck it up, Sugar Queen,” which was probably as close to empathy as she got. But then she had tried to do Katara’s hair, and it was like everything that had happened that day became too much, and Katara had thrown Toph out of the room. She hadn’t been too mean, but she was obviously frustrated, and the fact that Toph wouldn’t let her alone just added fuel to the fire.

There was another knock at the door and Katara groaned, getting up and stomping over.

“Toph, please just—” she started as she opened the door.

Her mother stood on the other side.

“Oh, mother,” she said, flushing red. “I’m so sorry, I thought you were—well, you know.”

Kya just smiled. “May I come in?” Katara nodded and let her pass. Then she sat at her dresser again and surveyed the damage while her mother paced the room. In addition to the big knot on the top of her head, now there were also random, frizzy pieces of hair sticking out haphazardly. She sighed, dragging a hand down her face.

“Can I help?” Kya asked, appearing behind Katara in the mirror. She nodded gratefully and handed her a white-bone comb. Katara watched as Kya carefully coaxed the hair from its precarious position and ran the comb through it, easing the knots and taming the rough curls into gentle waves. Her mother’s fingers massaged her scalp and Katara’s eyes slid closed. She was completely at ease, all the nerves still in her stomach from dinner evaporating with her mother’s soothing touch. She couldn’t remember the last time they had been together like this. Sure they had trained and eaten meals in the same room, but right now, in this moment, Kya was not a master waterbender or an Empress: she was just a mother.

She certainly looked like an Empress, however. Her gown was elegant and formfitting, the deepest shade of blue one could see without it turning black. Her thick brown hair was gathered at the nape of her neck with sparkling pins holding it together. Her dark eyes were outlined in kohl, making them stand out against her shimmering golden skin. She was so incredibly beautiful. Katara thought that if she could be half as beautiful as her one day, she would be the luckiest girl alive.

“Katara,” Kya said, and Katara looked away, afraid she would get chastened for staring. “I need to talk to you.”

“Okay.”

Kya began pulling her hair into a high bun, expertly inserting pins to keep it in place. Her hands moved like it was second nature, but her eyes were distant, unfocused.

“I just want you to know how proud I am of you.”

Katara looked up. This was unexpected. Not only was this an unusual time to bring up such a subject, but her mother hardly ever complimented her. She loved her, of course, but no one in their family really showed affection, and certainly not in the form of random compliments.

Kya noticed Katara’s confused look and smiled lovingly. “Not only tonight, although you did act like a true queen in front of our guests. But all the time. You’ve grown up to be a strong, beautiful woman, Katara. I know I don’t say it enough, but I love you.”

Kya’s hands stilled, and Katara looked at her reflection. Her hair was piled high in a regal updo, with tendrils trailing down her temples, just touching her shoulders.

Her eyes were also watering.

Katara stood up and faced her mother, only just realizing she could look straight into her eyes. _When did I get this tall?_ Kya placed a hand on Katara’s cheek and gave her an intense look.

“Please, Katara. I need you to continue to be strong.” She paused, looking as if she was struggling to continue. And then she took a deep breath. “There will come a time when I am not around anymore. I need to trust that you will continue to listen to your own heart, and rule your life by it.”

 _What is she talking about_? Katara wondered. This conversation was just becoming more and more odd. But she nodded anyway.

“Of course, mother.”

The line between Kya’s eyebrows softened and she smiled with the corner of her lips. “Good. Also,” she said, and reached around to the back of her head, “I want you to have this.” She untied her bethrothal necklace from her own neck and draped it around Katara’s.

“Mother, I can’t—”

“Yes, you can.” There was no room for argument in her tone, and Katara quieted. But now she began to worry. Between the conversation and the necklace, something was definintely wrong. She desperately wanted to ask, to figure out what it was, and fix it. Her mother had worked so hard on this gathering, and Katara hated that something was troubling her. She deserved to be relaxed and happy. But she also knew that she wouldn’t get anything more out of her mother than what she wanted her to know. She watched her mother’s reflection secure the blue pendant around her own reflection’s neck, the bottom of it settling in the base of her throat, like it had been meant to find its way there.

Her hands rested on Katara’s shoulders, and the two of them stood there, watching themselves, stuck in the moment. Standing side by side, Katara noticed how much they looked alike. The same hair, the same eyes, the same rich skin. But her mother held herself in such a way Katara could only mimic; high chin, straight shoulders, a look that simply bled conviction. Beside her, Katara was an imperfect copy, her edges too sharp, curves too rough.

But when she threaded her hand through her mother’s, and Kya smiled down at her, Katara thought it was okay they weren’t the same. No one could ever take her mother’s place.

Together they climbed the stairs to the second level, where nobles and servants were milling about, waiting for the ballroom’s doors to be re-opened. They passed the courtyard where people were hovering by the monument Kya had erected in Reya’s memory. It was surrounded by flowers and engraved stones. Katara caught her mother gazing at it as they walked by and squeezed her hand gently.

Hakoda and Sokka were already standing by the door of the ballroom, flanked by advisors and them by guards, chatting with Chief Kanook and Rebekah and the nobles from their tribe who had joined them the day before. Hakoda wore traditional embroidered robes with rich white fur and gold embroidery along the seams. Sokka had chosen a gaudier ensemble, opting for long robes with pearl embellishments and face paint that was far more excessive than the evening called for. Katara fought the urge to roll her eyes.

When the guests caught sight of Katara and Kya, there was an audible gasp. She knew they were all staring at her mother, whose beauty was beyond compare, but she couldn’t help but feel beautiful simply by standing next to her. Even her father cracked a proud smile as Kya made her way to him, the look in his eyes one Katara had not seen in a long time. The crowd between them parted as she approached. He held out his arm to her and she took it with a sly look Katara knew she reserved for him and only him. She hadn’t seen them this happy together in years, and it made something in her stomach flutter.

Slightly less pleasing, Sokka offered his arm and Katara placed her hand lightly upon it.

“You clean up nice, sister. You actually look like a girl for once!”

“Thank you, brother. I love your war paint. Did you fall into a vat of it?”

Sokka glared at her as the four of them led the party into the ballroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this mess of a chapter at least a little bit! Also, PLEASE STICK WITH ME the moment you all have been waiting for is coming up soon! I can't wait for you to read it :D


	35. Chapter 35

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! I updated on time this week :) This chapter has 2 Zuko sections and 2 Katara sections. I wrote them a while ago and didn't want to add unnecessary stuff to fill out the chaps, so we just have double this week. I hope you like it!
> 
> By the way, did anyone catch the "Mulan" reference in the last chapter? ;)
> 
> Disclaimer: i don't own avatar pls dont sue me

 

* * *

 

Zuko waited just inside the ballroom doors, still as a pillar, dying to scratch an itch at the base of his collar. Toph stood across from him, head drooping as if she had fallen asleep. She’d been busy the past few days trying to find more information about whoever was threatening the royal family, but she hadn’t had much luck. Zuko wouldn’t have been surprised to see dark purple bags under all the eye makeup she was wearing. Her dress, light blue and form-fitting, revealed how much she was slouching. And he was fairly certain she’d busted the bottoms out of her shoes so she could “see.” Even though Zuko could appreciate how nice she looked in her fancy get-up, it just didn’t look right, like the gown hung wrong on her body. He wondered if she had ever even worn a gown before.

But he wasn’t one to talk. He knew he like a seal-fish out of water. Back in Sokka’s room, he had helped the Prince squeeze into the ugliest set of robes he had ever seen. When Zuko suggested he wear something a little humbler, Sokka had rolled his eyes dismissively.

“You wouldn’t know, being from the _Fire Nation_ ,” he spat derisively, “but this is the pinnacle of Southern Empire fashion.”

Then he had thrown a pair of black pants and navy blue robes at Zuko’s face, claiming they were “ratty old scraps” that didn’t fit him anymore, but seemed to fit Zuko just fine considering he was larger than Sokka in practically every way.

Even though the ensemble fit pretty well, it was awfully constricting, and this was all Zuko could think about as he stood by the doors, fidgeting. All of his clothing in the Fire Nation had been tailor-made to accomodate his bending; it was easy to move in. This formal wear was constructed to make him look good. Even though it was blue. Personally, Zuko preferred red. And although his rehearsals with Katara had helped with his dancing, he knew it would be hard to move without ripping something. 

Zuko’s head snapped to attention when the doors to the ballroom opened and the Emperor and Empress walked through, arm-in-arm. He had to admit: they looked royal. The Empress eyed the staff kindly, obviously relieved nothing had gone awry since she left the ballroom. The chandeliers hanging from the high ceilings were lit, the candles casting a brilliant glow on the ice walls. The floor was smooth and patterns of fire reflected against it, dancing. The Emperor was his usual uptight self, but his eyes kept darting over to his wife with an uncharastically warm look. Zuko’s Uncle had always said that a strong, beautiful woman could melt the coldest of hearts and turn the foolish wise.

As soon as his gaze landed on the next couple entering the room, Zuko knew with overwhelming certainty that his Uncle had been right.

Katara practically floated across the threshold, her hand resting lightly on her brother’s forearm. Her face was stoic, eyes straight ahead—the only indications that she was less than pleased with her partner.

But _Agni_ , she was breathtaking.

Her hair was piled like vines on top of her head, cheeks and chest dusted with gold, eyes outlined in dark kohl. Her dress molded graciously to her curves and Zuko wanted to profusely thank whoever had made the gown. Frozen to the spot by the sight of her, Zuko almost didn’t notice Toph step forward to trail behind the two of them.

“ _Sparky!_ ” she hissed, immediately snapping Zuko out of his trance. He fell in step with the procession, walking a few paces behind the Prince, who, Zuko was pleased to see, looked even more uncomfortable than Zuko did in his formal wear. The six of them, plus two servants for the Emperor and Empress, made their way to the center of the room where they bowed to one another and separated. The crowd followed them and dispersed, filling the high ceilings and wide walls with polite chatter. The servants began to circle the party, trays of food and drink in their hands, offered to the nobles.

Jin, moving to a small group of men in the corner, caught Zuko’s eye and grinned. She looked pretty in a simple blue and black dress that he had called “beautiful” before when Orchard had prompted him to compliment her up in the servant’s quarters.

“Well, what do you think?” Orchard had asked, spinning around so her dress flared out. Zuko had laughed and told her it made her look like a Unagi horn, which she didn’t appreciate. Then she had directed his attention to Jin, who was standing off to the side, blushing unnaturally red (which he later realized was because of the makeup).

“And what about Jin? She made her dress all by herself.”

Zuko swallowed uncomfortably. The dress was well-made, and she did look pretty, but he didn’t want to lead her on. But then her smile faltered, and a tinge of panic creeped into her eyes, and Zuko figured it couldn’t hurt to pay her a compliment.

“It’s a beautiful dress. _You_ look beautiful, Jin,” he said, which restored her smile and made her blush even more fiercely.

Now in the ballroom Zuko smiled back at her, glad she wasn’t angry that he couldn’t help the other servants. But he grudgingly had a job to do. He trailed Sokka as he made his way around the room, already in full-flirt mode. He paused to casually chat with three young ladies, one of whom kept shooting Zuko coy glances. He turned around, hoping to avoid further awkwardness, and almost ran right into Katara.

They both exclaimed, and he instinctively grabbed her upper arms to keep both of them from falling. She looked at his hands then up at him through her eyelashes, which looked even longer than they had before, and he felt his face flush.

“Sorry, your Highness.”

She pursed her lips at her formal title, but must have realized its necessity. If anyone heard him using her first name, they might think less of her—or worse, get suspicious. 

“That’s alright. It was my fault,” she said, a smile creeping on to her face. They watched each other for a prolonged moment, and Zuko was unsure of what to do next. He was surprised to realize that he wanted to ask her to dance. He couldn’t, of course—a royal couldn’t be seen dancing with a servant. They had been pushing it earlier just by talking to one another. Also, there was the fact that he hated dancing. But if it was with her, he found he wasn’t afraid to make a fool of himself.

Realizing he was still holding her, he dropped his hands. “So, how have you been?” he asked in what he hoped was a cordial, aloof way. As if they hadn’t seen each other only a few hours ago.

“Good,” she replied, the candlelight flickering in the blue of her eyes. “And you?”

“Pretty good,” Zuko said, and then mentally hit himself, because that’s the best he could come up with? _Pretty good?_ His mind flashed back to their encounter, how she had looked at him, and her dress—

“Busy, too,” he added quickly, sounding more idiotic by the second, grapsing for something—anything—to say to get his mind off of the tempting image lingering there. “You know, with preparations and everything.”

“Right, of course,” she nodded seriously, but he could see the smile playing on her lips. “I’m sure it took a long time to put this all together.”

“Yeah, it did. But your mother did most of the work.” _She knows that, stupid! She’s her mom!_ Thankfully, Katara chuckled softly and Zuko relaxed. All around them the party was pulsing, the anticipation heightening as couples paired off to dance. A quartet of stringed instruments had arrived after the feast ended and were now playing soft, lively music in the background of the chatter.

Katara looked to her brother. “I see Sokka is doing alright,” she deadpanned. Sokka had gathered a modest fan club and was gesticulating wildly. “What do you think he’s talking about?”

“Probably the buffalo yak he hunted the other day.”

“You mean he was actually able to catch something?”

“Technically yes. I mean, it only had 3 legs, but I’m sure he’s conveniently forgotten that detail.”

Katara snorted, then laughed, brushing Zuko’s shoulder. Zuko bit his upper lip to repress the grin that threatened to break through. But his good mood was short-lived, because he felt someone come up behind him.

 

* * *

 

“Daughter,” the Emperor said, his shadow falling on Zuko’s surprised face. “I have a young man here who has asked you for the first dance.”

Zuko peeled away from her and stood to the side, head dropped respectfully.

“With all due respect, Father,” she said through gritted teeth, “I am not interested in—”

“This is the son of a very influential Northern official, and you _will_ dance with him,” her father ordered, learning forward so that he towered over her. Her heart fluttered, remembering their fight so long ago, his words, the distant throbbing of mended ribs.

_No way,_ she wanted to say. She was not in the mood to mingle with people her father thought important, to be used as his pawn. But now was not the time or place. So she lowered her head.

“Yes, Father _,_ ” she said.

Just as he was about to turn away, his gaze jerked down to her throat. “What is that?” he hissed, and stepped up against her. His hand closed around her mother’s necklace, as if to rip it off, and impulsively, she grabbed his fist.

“She gave it to me to wear tonight,” she snapped at him. She could feel the muscles in her neck tense, the blood rushing against the veins being squeezed there. Hakoda glared at her hand, then into her eyes, and the skin of his knuckles began to turn white. But then, seeming to realize where they were, he loosened his grip backed away.

“Take it off. Now. Jet cannot see you wearing it, or he might get the wrong impression.” _That’s probably why Mother gave it to me_ , Katara realized as Hakoda dramatically stormed off.

She noticed Zuko glaring after him with narrowed eyes that seemed to burn with a fire too bright for the dim room. Hakoda returned to a small group near the door and pointed her out to a young man in expensive-looking furs. Katara sighed.

“Take my necklace,” she said, facing Zuko.

“Me?” His good eye widened.

It almost made her laugh. Almost. “Yes, _you._ Don’t worry, I’m not proposing or anything. Besides, that’s the man’s job,” she said with a wink. She untied her necklace and his throat moved as she placed the delicate charm in his outstretched hand and folded his fingers over it. “Please take care of it.”

He looked into her eyes. “I will.”

She pulled away just before someone tapped her shoulder, and she saw Jet, the noble’s son, standing behind her.

“Princess Katara.” He bowed to her. “You look even more beautiful up close.”

“I’m afraid your compliment won’t do you any good,” Katara said formally as she curtsied. “It’s too dark in here for any sincere flattery.”

She heard Zuko snicker and held back a grin. Jet’s good breeding faltered only for an instant as she saw a grimace take hold of his politely manufactured smile. But then it was back up and he held out a hand. “Shall we?”

Katara allowed the noble’s son to lead her to the dance floor. The musicians, seeing their intent, transitioned to a traditional Water Empire dance, which unfortunately meant the two of them had to touch. Jet took the lead and began twirling her in a circle, too fast for the music, making her dizzy. She couldn’t get a word in between his outrageous compliments and not-so-subtle bragging about how he was a decorated warrior and had taken down an entire Fire Nation colony on his own. (Which she didn’t buy. At all.) She nodded politely and graciously ignored every time he stepped on her feet, which was often.

Soon Sokka joined them with a short Northerner wearing almost as much makeup as he was. Even Zuko accompanied a young woman who looked positively overjoyed to be cast aside by her brother. Zuko grimaced at Katara as the girl began tugging him around the dance floor, and Katara had to stifle a laugh. Evidently, Jet thought she was laughing at one of his jokes, which he had been trying unsuccessfully to tell, and grinned smugly at her.

“Yeah, that one’s popular with the ladies. The Earth kingdom girls love my jokes. They say I have an ‘earth kingdom sense of humor,’ which is funny, because Water Empire girls think I have a water tribe sense of humor.”

“Oh really?” commented Katara distantly.

“Yes. I’m quite popular back in the North. In fact, I’ve been approached by many fathers who have offered their daughters for marriage.”

Katara went cold, knowing all too well where this conversation was headed. Jet spun her around once more and squeezed her hands too tightly. “I’m of marrying age, Katara. So are you, I’ve noticed,” he said, looking pointedly down at her gown. She felt at once defiant and ashamed.

“It’s _Your Highness_ , Jet. And I’d appreciate it if you looked at _my eyes_ while you talk to me. We’re at a very public party, after all.” The song was not yet over, but she tried to shrug out of his grasp. His hands tightened even more, imprisoning her.

He smiled pleasantly, but his eyes told a different story. “Come on, Katara. Your father told mine he’d be happy to have me as a son-in-law. I’m the best warrior in the Northern Tribe. I could protect you from that nasty Fire Nation.” His head dropped and Katara could feel his breath against her cheek. “Any girl would be lucky to have me.”

She couldn’t stand any more. She wrenched her hands away and left the floor immediately, praying to Tui and La that he wouldn’t follow. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Hakoda move as if to run after her, but Kya placed a hand on his arm, stopping him. Katara waved off Toph as she approached.

_Any girl._ Katara scoffed. She wasn’t just any girl. She was a _princess,_ the heir to the Empire _throne_ for spirit’s sake!

She would have slammed the ballroom doors shut if it wouldn’t have caused more of a commotion. Stalking down the hallway, Katara tried to calm her breathing, taking in the cool palace air and letting her excess energy course out of her and into the ice of the ceilings and walls. The hallway seemed to glow with the power, and at once she felt more at ease.

_How dare he make me feel like such a fool_! He was just the son of a noble. And a rude one at that. She tried not to think about the fact her father had already given his approval for their marriage. Without talking to her first. She hadn’t even met the guy, but her father was all too eager to have them engaged! It was obvious the Northerners did not respect her as future Empress. And now she was certain her father had no intention of letting her assume the position without a man by her side.

She could have bent the whole ocean, she was so angry.

And then she heard footsteps.

“Katara!” a voice called from behind, and she recognized him immediately.

“Zuko, I’m really not in the mood—”

“I know,” he interrupted. He skidded to a halt in front of her and and held out a wine jug. “That’s why I brought this.”

 

* * *

 

“Spirits, what an asshole,” Zuko muttered. A hiccup escaped his throat as he passed the half-empty jug to Katara.

“I know,” she sighed, and took a significant drink without so much as a wince. The two of them were sitting on a balcony on the third floor, and she had just re-enacted her whole conversation with Jet in-between gulps of wine.

“And your father wants you to marry that guy?’

“Yup,” she said, her lips making a popping sound.

“Asshole.”

Katara laughed and Zuko watched as she threw her head back, the moon illuminating the angular planes of her face. They’d been out there for a while and she had long since wiped off her makeup. Zuko thought she looked even more beautiful without it. But he didn’t tell her that. He couldn’t. It wouldn’t do either of them any good.

It was clearer than ever that they couldn’t possibly be together. Her father expected her to marry some rich Northern noble who probably had a collection of animal skins and battle weapons decorating his wall. Some kid from the Fire Nation, even if he was a Prince, was the very last person on the planet Katara would be able to, or even _want_ to marry.

_Wait, marriage?!_

“Zuko, are you okay?” Katara asked, frowning at the sudden choking noise he had made.

He coughed, clearing his throat. “Yeah! Yeah, I’m good.”

“Can’t hold your alcohol?” she joked, a half-smile tugging at her mouth.

He shot her a look, grabbed the jug from her hand, and took a long drink in defiance. She rolled her eyes at him, and he saw the sadness caused by the uglier memories of that evening slowly fading.

The moon was only half-full, but it still illuminated the entire ocean and glinted off of icebergs bobbing in the distance. The air was crisp. Autumn had arrived in full force, generating storms out in the middle of the sea and breathing a new kind of cold into Zuko’s bones. He wasn’t used to such weather. It was pretty much always summer in the Fire Nation capital. He longed for the beating sun against his skin; for the trickles of sweat rolling down his forehead from a good practice; for the rosy bloom of sunburn on his nose and cheeks after a week at Ember Island.

_Katara would like Ember Island_ , Zuko thought. The royal family had a private summer residence and always spent at least a few weeks there. They would play sports on the beach, swim in the warm blue waters, go see shows in town.

The bay at Ember Island was said to be one of the cleanest and most beautiful in the entire world, and the caves across the island had hidden natural herbal pools brimming with healing properties. The weather wasn’t too hot—you learned to adjust after a while, just like he was learning to adjust here in the South.

Katara leaned back against the pillar. Her face tilted up towards the moon, its light reflecting on her closed eyelids. She was so obliviously content, and in that moment, Zuko couldn’t imagine her existing anywhere else. But at the same time, he couldn’t imagine himself living in a place where she didn’t exist. His head fell back against the wall, a stabbing pain in his chest where his heart sat heavy.

He hadn’t even realized he was thinking about marriage, much less a marriage to Katara. _It was the wine,_ he reasoned. _And the conversation._ If Katara hadn’t told him about her potential engagement to Jet, he wouldn’t have broached the subject. Of course not.

It made him wonder what his life would look like if—no, _when_ —he returned to the Fire Nation. When he was introduced to his people as the savior of their country, of the whole world. What ‘lucky’ Fire Nation girl his father would choose for him to spend the rest of his life with. She would probably be the daughter of some rich person or important political figure that he hardly knew.

He closed his eyes and let the still of the night seep into his pores. It was cold, but there was something refreshing and invigorating about it. Music floated through the air from below where the ball was in full swing. Twice they’d heard guards traipsing down the hallway, looking for Katara, but they’d never thought to look on the patio. _Water-logged idiots_ , Zuko had called them in his drunken stupor, and Katara had laughed, even though it wasn’t funny at all, and almost blew their cover. Distantly, Zuko hoped Jin wouldn’t notice he was gone and report his absence. Toph probably didn’t care. The Emperor wasn’t going to be happy, but thinking of Katara dancing with that guy— _what kind of name was Jet, anyway?_ —made Zuko sick to his stomach, even moreso than all the alcohol he had drank. He would gladly cross the Emperor to keep Katara away from that creep.

            _Wait,_ he thought, a foggy memory suddenly rising to the forefront of his mind. He glanced at Katara, who looked as if she was about to fall asleep. He poked her shoulder. “Katara, did the letter get out okay?” he asked. He felt guilty about breaking the peaceful silence, but he had meant to ask her hours ago.

            Her eyelids fluttered. “Oh, that. It went fine! My contact in the village was going to send it out today.”

            “Thank Spirits,” Zuko said, and leaned back on the pillar, relieved.

            Katara considered him with narrowed eyes. “You look far too serious, Zuko. I think you need another drink….”

           

* * *

They’d lost the jug somewhere between the second and first floor, although they had emptied it anyway. Katara’s chest felt full and fluttery as she and Zuko jogged down the hallway, trying to stifle their giggles. They had almost been caught by the guards who had finally thought to check the balcony, and she had bent a messy hole in the floor of it that deposited them in the second floor stairwell. Although they had managed to evade the guards, the two of them had run all the way around the floor and down the stairs, just in case. Katara squealed as she almost slipped turning the corner, and Zuko shushed her again, though his voice was even louder than hers.

            “I’m supposed to be upstairs right now!” he said.

            “Me too!”

            That made both of them erupt into a new wave of laughter, though Katara wasn’t sure why. All she knew was that her head was swimming and her feet were floating and she really wanted to know how soft Zuko’s hair was. She grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him to lean against the wall beside her door. He stumbled, running right into it, but still laughed.

            Smiling, Katara ran her fingers through his mop of black hair. It was…thicker than she had assumed. And silky. Like polar-dog fur, but black. She wanted a rug made of it.

            The thought made her chuckle and Zuko merely looked up at her hand with furrowed eyebrows.

            “Uh, Katara? What’re you doing?” he slurred.

            “You’re like a polar-bear dog!”

            “I am?”

            Katara nodded, covering her mouth with her free hand.

            Zuko seemed to consider this, then hiccuped. His eyes went wide. “I totally am!”

            “Here,” Katara said, grabbing his hand. “Feel mine.” Her hair had long since fallen from its bun and cascaded down her shoulders and back. She plopped Zuko’s hand on the top of her head and grinned up at him with a toothy smile and squinty eyes. She felt his fingers poke at her skull for only a second before they stilled. She opened her eyes.

            He was looking at her like…well, she couldn’t think of the word off the top of her head. But all of a sudden she didn’t feel so lightheaded. In fact, she felt oddly sober.

            “Zuko? What is it?”

            She saw his throat move and his mouth opened, then closed. His hand dropped to his side at once. “Uh, nothing. It’s nothing. I just remembered that I’m supposed to help...um…clean up. That’s right. Also, Sokka will probably need me to peel him out of his clothing. His robes are tighter than a….” Zuko frowned, looking for the analogy through the alcohol-induced haze that was only beginning to fade from Katara’s mind. “Well, a something.”

            “Oh. Alright.” Katara leaned against her door, the knob pressing into her back, and looked up at him. “So…goodnight, I guess.”

            “Goodnight.”

            Neither of them moved. Zuko’s hand twitched at his side, but did not stray. Katara could feel her cheeks heating. She didn’t know what she expected. The moment had passed. Yet something lingered, some words unspoken, just on the tip of her tongue. She wondered if he felt the same way.

            She thought maybe the way his glassy eyes stared into hers indicated he did. But then again, they’d emptied an entire jug of wine only minutes ago, so that could be the reason too.

            Her heart dropped when he broke their gaze and looked away, rubbing the back of his neck. “Well,” he said, then cleared his throat. “Goodnight.”

            With that, he turned and started towards the stairs, leaving Katara frozen against the door, her eyes stuck on him. His hands were stuffed in the pockets of his pants, and one of his pant legs was untucked and hanging lazily over the side of his sealskin boots. She wondered what she looked like now. Maybe her hair was all gross, and that’s why he wanted to leave so suddenly. Katara huffed, blowing a stray piece of it out of her eyes, and opened the door.

            _Way to ruin the mood, Zuko_ , she complained to herself. But really, what did she expect? It’s not like anything could have happened between them. Her hand tightened on the chilled metal of the door knob. She was the Princess; he was a servant. She was Water Empire. He was Fire Nation. It was impossible.

            But they could be friends, at least. Katara refused to give that up. If she couldn’t have what she wanted, she would take what she could get.

            “Katara!” Zuko’s voice called out, and she looked up to see him jogging back down the hall. For a split second her heart tensed with unrealistic expectations. Then she saw his hand extended towards her, a piece of ribbon lying in the middle of it.

            “I forgot to give this back to you,” he said sheepishly and held out her mother’s necklace.

            “Oh,” she said, feeling ashamed at the pathetic fluttering of her heart. “Thanks.” He looked from her to the necklace and back again, waiting for her to take it. “Actually, would you mind?” She pointed to her neck. “I can never get the knot right.”

            Only when she lifted up the mat of hair and pulled it over her shoulder did understanding light his eyes.

            “Oh, yeah. Of course.”

Katara turned around. She held still as he pulled both ends of the ribbon around her neck, settling the pendant in the dip of her collarbone, and tried to control her breathing as his knuckles brushed against the sensitive skin on the base of her neck.

            After a few moments he let out a soft laugh. “Sorry. I got my finger stuck.”

            A giggle bubbled up in Katara’s throat, and she didn’t know if it was because of the wine or because of how anxious she felt. “It’s not that hard, Zuko.”

            “You’re the one who asked me to do it, remember?” he shot back, but she could hear the smile in his voice. Katara rolled her eyes and repressed the urge to call him an idiot. After all, he wasn’t wrong. “There, got it.” Katara, feeling the cool absence of his fingers, let her hair fall back down.

            “Thank you,” she said, and turned. They were much closer than she had anticipated. She could see the faint blush on the pale skin of his exposed chest, even in the dim light of the torches nailed to the walls. Inches away his eyes glowed gold, glassy and alive, and she knew it wasn’t just because of the wine. Two of his fingers rose to touch the blue pendant and her chin tilted up, like a reflex. His eyes stayed on the necklace, but she saw his throat move.

            “It looks beautiful,” he said. “Right.”

            “Right?” Katara asked, her eyebrows furrowing.

            “When you weren’t wearing it earlier it looked…I don’t know. Wrong. It looks like it’s part of you.” His eyes moved from the necklace and met hers, the fire in them burning slowly, like hot coals.

            “Well,” Katara started, “thank you for giving it back to me.” She felt embarrassed at how weak her voice sounded, but her throat had gone suddenly, inexplicably dry.

            “You’re welcome.”

            _Not again_ , Katara groaned to herself. _The dreaded ‘you’re welcome.’_ The small flame of hope she had felt kindling in her chest started to flicker, dangerously close to dying. She expected him to look away, step back, run away as fast as he could.

            But he didn’t.

            He pressed closer and she could feel his wrist against her chest, since he was still holding the pendant. And then, with his eyes still burning into her, she felt him trace the ribbon of her necklace up her collarbone to her neck, and then, fingers trembling, touched her chin.

She found herself leaning forward, the tips of his dark hair tickling her forehead, his hot breath against her cheek. His hand lightly cupped her jaw and pulled her to him, and even though she knew it was dangerous, and wrong, and everything that she should _not want_ , she wanted. She _really_ wanted.

            His lips hovered in front of hers, close enough to touch, but not to taste, and his breath flowed heavy over her skin, and before she knew what she was doing, Katara pushed herself up on her toes and their lips met.

            Everything stopped: her heart, the thundering of blood in her veins, her brain. Overwhelmed by him, she forgot what she was supposed to do next.

            She feared Zuko had forgotten as well, as he was motionless, save for the slight shaking of his hand against her face. But then, as if someone had flipped a switch, his hand moved to her neck and pulled her closer, and her body, warm and electric, fell flush against his.

And then he sprung away, his eyes wide. “They’re coming.”

            Katara, eyes still-half lidded, frowned at him. “Who’s com—” Mid-sentence she heard the heavy footfalls of the guards and the drunken ramblings of her brother. That snapped her back to reality, no matter how much she wanted to stay in whatever fantasy she’d just been living in.

            “You’ve got to go. Now.” She shoved Zuko’s chest and he staggered back, still tipsy from the wine.

            “But you—”

            “No arguing! We’ll talk tomorrow. Now go!” At the promise of seeing her tomorrow he smiled and allowed her to push him towards the other staircase. Before he let the door fall shut behind him, he looked back at her, a dopey, intoxicated grin on his face.

            She rolled her eyes and gestured for him to leave. Only when the door shut behind him did she retreat into her own room before anyone saw her. Her body was exhausted, but she knew as she undressed and pulled her hair back into its signature braid that she wouldn’t be getting much sleep tonight if her mind had anything to say about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hehehehe I wasn't sure how I was going to end this chapter, so I made it abrupt :) don't worry, you'll get your sin. Just not quite yet! but hey, at least I gave you SOMETHING! <3
> 
> ALSO PLEASE MAKE ME FANART I HAVE A GREAT NEED AND I WILL GIVE YOU SHOUTOUT AND LOVE YOU 5EVER


	36. Chapter 36

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I almost made my self-imposed deadline. But at least it's done! Sorry it's been, like, months since I updated. Whoops. You know, finals and summer and all that. But at least I passed! I am officially a junior in college. It's totally freaking me out. 
> 
> ANYWAY, a HUUUGGGGEEE shoutout to TwiHearts.Emily on ff.net (randomdays45 on tumblr) for this AMAZING FANART of the last chapter that literally got me through this monster of a chapter. Seriously guys, check it out it's so cool--> http://randomdays45.tumblr.com/image/143625786407
> 
> I'm going to try to post it right before this chapter starts.
> 
> I think that's pretty much it. Let me know what you think about this chap! I can't wait for you to read the next one--it's really good! (well, I think it's good...I expect some of you won't be happy ;))
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own these lovestruck nerds

 

* * *

* * *

 

Zuko woke the next morning to aching muscles, sweat-slicked skin, and a _pounding_ head. He sat up, his damp blanket pooling around his waist, and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. He felt like he'd been trampled by a herd of ostrich-horses, his body was so sore.

And his _head_.

Through the hangover-induced haze, he realized he had been dreaming. He was certain of it, but had no idea of what—the leftover images were incomprehensible. Cracking his eyelids, he scanned the room. Everyone else was still asleep, which was surprising. They were hardly ever allowed to sleep past sunrise. Usually the emperor had them working before anyone else—save for the guards—were awake. But considering the party last night, it was understandable. He thought back to the banquet, spilling the wine, the nobles, the dancing, and—

_Agni, what did I do?_

Although most of the night was still blurry, there was one thing he recalled with perfect clarity.

_Katara._

Zuko didn't know how early it was, but he leapt from his pallet anyway. Jin was passed out on the pallet beside him, snoring softly, red lip color smeared across her face as if she had gone to bed without washing which, for all he knew, she could have. In fact, most of the servants were still dressed in their ball-wear, and Zuko distantly wondered if they'd had a party of their own after the nobles went to bed. But his thoughts didn't linger there long: he had something more important to attend to.

Quietly, he pulled on his uniform and left the room. The palace seemed frozen in time. The hallways were empty as he walked quickly to the stairwell, ready to dodge guards as needed. But it wasn't an issue, since there wasn't a single palace worker in sight.

He needed to see her. If he hadn't been so drunk the night before, he would never have left her. Not after doing what he'd done.

_Well, it wasn't_ all _my doing,_ he acknowledged with a swirling mix of pleasure and confusion in his stomach, remembering the way she had looked at him, how warm she'd been, how her lips felt pressed—

"Zuko!"

He groaned, recognizing the voice that echoed down the hall at once. "Not again," he muttered under his breath, slowing his steps.

"I was just coming to collect you," Prince Sokka said, emerging from a room Zuko knew held extra weapons for the guards. He wasn't alone. Following behind were a group of young men dressed similarly to Sokka in thick fur coats, carrying packs.

"Your Highness," Zuko grumbled, dropping his head slightly.

"We're going hunting. Jet." Sokka motioned to the guy to his right who Zuko vaguely recognized as the jerk who had bothered Katara the night before. Jet threw an obnoxious fur parka at Zuko—with more force than necessary—and the rest dropped their sacks before him.

Zuko frowned. "What's all this?"

"You don't expect _us_ to carry all this, do you?" Sokka scoffed, sending a look at his friends.

"You have arms, don't you?" Zuko spat back with equal venom.

"Watch it _fire brat_." Sokka shoved his shoulder and he stumbled back a few feet. Zuko glared. The Prince was obviously showing off for the nobles, and Zuko knew if it came to a fight, they wouldn't have any qualms about taking him five-on-one.

But he _needed_ to see Katara. To talk with her. To make sure the two of them were still okay, and to find out where they would go from here. So much had changed over the last few months, and he didn't know if he could go back to the way things were after last night. He still had his mission, but…well, he didn't know what that meant anymore. He knew if he went with the group they'd be out all day because Sokka wouldn't return until he caught something, which would take ages, and he didn't know if he could physically wait that long. "Listen, your Highness, I don't think it's a good idea for me to go. I'm…I'm not feeling very well."

"Tell me about it!" Sokka chortled. "I didn't get _any_ sleep last night, if you know what I mean." He wagged his eyebrows at his entourage and they laughed appreciatively. Zuko knew for a fact that he had gone to his room alone, but chose not to aggravate him further.

"Really, I don't think—"

" _Enough_ ," Sokka snapped, all traces of joviality gone. "You are coming. End of discussion."

A tense moment passed between the group of men, waiting to see if Zuko would argue again. Without breaking eye contact, Zuko shrugged on the parka and slung the packs over his shoulder. Sokka grinned smugly and patted Zuko's cheek. "Good boy. Let's go."

A few minutes later, the hunting party breached the palace wall and made their way towards the southern edge of the city. It was still dark when they left, and Zuko pulled his parka closer to his body, feeling the early-morning chill creep into the spaces between the fabric and his skin. The other five men walked in front of him, talking quietly. A few of them were discussing the ball, and the rest were engaged in a heated discussion about which was better: boiled sea prunes or salted seal jerky.

Zuko let out a heavy sigh.

_How did I get roped into this?_

His mind absently wandered to Katara, as it so often did lately. He wondered what she was doing. _Sleeping, probably_ , he reasoned. The sky was only just beginning to lighten from inky black to deep purple, the tip of the sun just a specter on the far horizon.

"Hey, keep up!" one of the guys named Tuk called over his shoulder. Zuko had fallen behind and the party was approaching what appeared to be a cliff. Biting his tongue, Zuko hoisted the heavy packs farther up his back and picked up the pace. As much as he hated to admit it, he couldn't afford to get lost; he was unfamiliar with the terrain. The day he had gone penguin-sledding with Katara was a distant, but happy memory. They'd stuck closer to the coast, though, whereas today they seemed to be travelling deeper into the tundra.

Zuko paid close attention to how Tuk—who was smaller than the rest of the group, but seemed to move faster—made his way down the cliffside. Zuko stepped into the same footholds and, although the packs weighed him down, touched down at the bottom of the valley without much trouble.

"Would you look at that?"

Zuko, who had been adjusting the packs, looked up at the sound of Sokka's voice. In front of them was a herd of buffalo-yaks spread out as far as Zuko could see. They didn't seem concerned about their visitors. They simply stood there and nibbled on the sparse patches of grass that spotted the ground.

"La, that's amazing," whispered the man called Hahn, who seemed to be the most arrogant of the Northerners Zuko had met so far. But Zuko had to agree with him on this one. It _was_ amazing. Zuko had never seen such an immense number of animals existing peacefully in one place. His parents had once took Azula and him to an ostrich-horse farm on the outskirts of Capital City where they were bred and raised. But there hadn't been this many. Not even close.

During their descent into the valley, the sun had rose in the east and now illuminated the morning sky. It reflected off the ground and the wet backs of the buffalo-yaks, making their brown coats appear golden.

Out of nowhere, Zuko heard his uncle's voice in his head: _True beauty is often found in the small, unexpected treasures of life._ He used to say this when he and Azula were being petty or impatient, like when their parents dragged them to botanical gardens or made them take day trips through the colonies. He hadn't put much faith in the maxim as a child, but he'd grown to understand it better. A wave of sadness rose in Zuko's chest as he realized that this was one of those unexpected treasures. He wished his uncle was there to see it.

"Hahn, you take the right. Tuk, left." Sokka's hushed orders broke the peaceful silence that had fallen, and Zuko watched silently as the hunters moved into position around the herd. He couldn't do anything about it. This was the natural order of their culture. Years ago, before the Water Empire had risen to power, it was composed of small colonies that relied on hunting to survive; they ate the meat and sold the hides to Earth Kingdom traders. Now, most of the capital's meat was imported or supplied by a few remaining hunting colonies on the outskirts of the south. Zuko grimaced. _This_ was just for fun.

On Sokka's command, the three released their arrows on the still animals, and their cries of pain echoed across the valley. He watched as the herd began to move away from the cliff. The injured buffalo-yaks—there were only 2 of them, since Sokka had missed his shot—limped pitifully behind the herd, but seemed determined to escape.

Maybe it was because he was angry he had to helplessly stand by; maybe it was because of all the stories Uncle had told him about pacifist Air Nomads who hated killing, even killing to survive; maybe it was simply because he despised Sokka; but for whatever reason, he did not follow as the group pursued the injured animals. He looked away when he heard the release of five arrows.

They left the bodies at the base of the cliff.

"I'll send the guards to collect them later," Sokka had said as Zuko handed him his pack. They had climbed back up the cliff and stopped for a mid-morning snack. Zuko took a seat away from the circle of six and gnawed numbly on a strip of seal jerky. It tasted like bark and splintered between his teeth. It made him feel a little better that they'd only managed to catch those two buffalo-yaks: the rest had gotten away. Still, he could practically smell their dead carcasses at the bottom of the cliff, feel the heat draining from their bodies. They didn't have a chance being attacked five-on-two. They'd been surrounded, outnumbered, like Zuko had been that morning. Part of him knew it was ridiculous to identify with dumb, wild animals, but he couldn't help it. This entire country was wild, as were the people in it. At any moment it could turn on him.

_Snap out of it,_ Zuko told himself. Feeling sorry for himself wouldn't do him any good. He forced himself to focus on the conversation.

"Hahn, how's Yue?" Jet asked with a rise of his eyebrows and a sideways grin. Hahn rolled his eyes at his friend, but Zuko noticed the faint darkening of his cheeks.

"Yue?" Sokka cut in, eyes suddenly bright. "The Princess from the North? She and Katara used to hang out when father visited the Northern Tribes."

"Well, now she's Hahn's betrothed." Jet nudged Hahn and Hahn shoved him back, but the smile on his face told Zuko this was true.

Sokka's eyes narrowed infinitesimally. "Really?"

Hahn nodded. "We're to be married a month after I get back."

One of the other men, Soot, clapped Hahn on the back. "What I wouldn't give to be you. She's _hot_ , Hahn. I envy your wedding night." If Zuko hadn't been looking closely, he wouldn't have seen the shadow pass across Sokka's face; the way his expression fell, then darkened.

"Can you hold out for a whole month, Hahn?" Tuk joked.

"If it was my choice, I would have had her the day we became engaged," Hahn answered with a kind of smugness that made Zuko's skin crawl. "But she's convinced it would be dishonorable to do anything before we are legally wed. Northern girls." He rolled his eyes. He looked to Sokka, who had been uncharacteristically quiet. "I bet you don't have that problem here in the South. I've heard the girls here have a…certain reputation."

Sokka gave him a tight-lipped grin. "Whether or not there's truth to that reputation, it doesn't really matter for me. I can have any woman I want."

"Oh really?" Soot deadpanned.

"Yes, _really,_ " Sokka said defensively. "North _or_ South."

At that, Hahn leaned forward. "What are you saying?"

Sokka glanced up at the sky. "Let's be realistic, Hahn. If Yue had the chance to marry you or a Prince, who do you think she'd pick?" His gaze slid back to Hahn, who was visibly shaking. "Who would her father want her to marry?"

Hahn scoffed. "Yeah, right. You're not even a real prince, Sokka. You're a _bastard._ Unless Katara dies in some freak accident, there's no way your line will ever take the throne." Zuko tensed as he saw that shadow pass back across Sokka's face. Except this time, it stayed.

"How _dare_ you speak to me like that." Sokka's voice was low, the threat in it reflected like fire in his eyes. Things were about to escalate.

Zuko had been in this position so many times he'd lost count. Here, in the Water Empire, he had to force down the angry pride that boiled under his skin whenever he was insulted. He was a Prince but was treated like scum. At least in his own country, because of the scarce interaction he'd actually had with his people, he never felt disrespected. He could imagine how painful being betrayed by his own people would be. He saw that now in Sokka, who had risen from the ground, his hand on the hilt of his sword, his seal jerky tossed to the side. That wasn't a good sign.

Hahn had stood with Sokka and mirrored his stance. Zuko, who had been ignored up until now, made his way to Sokka's side. "Bastard or not," Zuko began, "Sokka has been legitimized by the Emperor. He is your Prince, and despite whose blood runs through his veins, his power is greater than you can imagine. Greater than you will ever have, no matter who you marry."

All eyes turned to Zuko, surprised, as if they had actually forgotten he was there.

"A big speech for a servant," Jet sneered, standing beside Hahn. "I thought your kind are meant to be seen, not heard." Zuko's fists tightened and he felt his fingernails digging into his palms. He could cut the guy down right where he stood. He doubted anyone would miss him. Katara would be grateful. She wouldn't have to marry him if he was dead. _Calm down,_ he told himself, a little frightened at the intensity of his reaction. But something about these Northerners made him uneasy. The way they were so quick to quarrel with their own Prince, the lack of respect. It would never be tolerated in the Fire Nation.

Jet smirked. "Besides, that's not entirely true, is it? Once I marry Katara, I'll be the most powerful person in the Empire—next to the Emperor, that is. More powerful than you, that's for sure," he added with a pointed glance at Sokka. But Zuko was hardly paying attention to him anymore.

"That's only if she actually marries you, Jet," Zuko said. "And from what I've heard, she's not too keen."

Soot, who had been watching at a distance, cut in. "It's not like she has a choice."

"That's right." Jet lifted his chin. "And I promise you, we won't be waiting until the wedding night." Zuko tensed, about to lunge at the guy's throat, when Sokka stepped forward. The tip of his sword was at Jet's throat before anyone knew what was happening, and Jet stumbled backwards into Soot. Tuk joined the other four and they all pulled out their weapons. Zuko noticed an ax they'd brought for climbing the ice on top of the packs and grabbed it. Even though he was shaking with anger, he had a job to do.

He wedged himself in between Sokka and the other men, ax outstretched. Five-on-two.

"Let's all calm down and remember who we are. If anyone gets hurt here there will be major consequences." He turned to Jet and Hahn. "You wouldn't risk harming the Prince at his own home, would you? Do you really think you'd get away with that?"

Only Hahn broke the staredown to glance at Zuko. Apparently, whatever he saw was enough to give him pause. His grip tightened, then loosened on his sword, and he let it fall to his side.

"The fire brat's right, Jet."

Jet was breathing heavily, like the buffalo-yak he had slain only feet away. Sokka, to his credit, seemed completely composed. Even though his arm was outstretched, it didn't shake or waver, nor did his deathly stare. He was daring one of them to make a move. It was a fight he could not win—not even with Zuko on his side—and they both knew it. But pride, Zuko had learned at a young age, was like a thorn. Once it dug under your skin, it hurt just as much to pull it out as it did to let it dig deeper. There would be no winner here.

Jet gave in first, dropping his sword in the snow and backing away. Sokka didn't lower his weapon until Jet was a good three feet away, and even as he sheathed it, did not break eye contact. Zuko hadn't seen this dangerous confidence from Sokka since that first time they'd sparred. Back then, he had thought it was sadistic, the way Sokka had treated him like an animal. Now, he recognized it as a means of survival. This show of power was the only way for Sokka to remain the predator in a world where everyone saw him as the prey. It wasn't so different from Katara's situation, although she responded with grace whereas Sokka responded with violence.

Zuko waited until all the others had sheathed their swords before he hung the ax from his belt. He wasn't about to let down his guard in the company of these people.

"Zuko, get the packs," said Sokka. "I think it's time to leave." Zuko did as he was told, relieved to get out of this situation. _Plus,_ he thought, _I'll get to see Katara._ That thought alone carried him through the trek back to the palace. He stayed close to Sokka's side, careful to keep the others in his peripheral at all times. The sun was almost at its apex, and it was warm enough that the furs on their backs began to visibly bother them all. It was a much-needed distraction and their mutual discomfort began to ease the tension from before, although Zuko noticed that Sokka never lost contact with the hilt of his sword.

* * *

 

It was a morning like any other. The sun had risen over the mountains in the distance about an hour ago, turning the sky pink, then gold, then the lightest blue Katara had ever seen. The early breeze was soft, but biting, and the tips of Katara's ears were beginning to turn numb. She'd left her room before sunrise in only her training uniform and parka, worried someone would come find her before she got a chance to get away. But she had navigated the hallways with no interference. In fact, it had seemed as if the whole palace still slept as she crept up to her spot on the roof, where she'd been for a few hours now, thinking.

Her head throbbed with a blistering hangover, but she remembered everything with crystal clarity.

Unfortunately.

_Tui and La, what have I done?_ was more or less what had been running through her mind since she woke up. At first she thought the whole thing had been a dream. She had _hoped_ it was a dream. But the butterflies still hovering in her stomach and the faint buzz on the surface of her lips told her otherwise.

Katara buried her head in her arms.

It's not like she wasn't happy. After all, wasn't this what some deep, private part of her had wanted for so long? She could still feel Zuko's breath on her cheek, his hands electrifying her skin, his lips pressed so sweetly—so _briefly_ —against hers. But she shouldn't want it. Not only was it incredibly dangerous for her, it was even more dangerous for Zuko.

Katara had no solid proof that Loka's disappearance was because he was with her, but what other explanation was there? He must have realized how dangerous it was for a servant to be caught with a royal, and took off. It had hurt at the time—if she was being honest with herself, it _still_ hurt—but she understood. The punishment for a servant having relations with a royal, no matter how innocent, was imprisonment for life. If it was really serious, the sentence was death. Sure, the male royals were allowed relations outside political alliances, but they couldn't be official. Katara had seen girls from the brothel in town enter Sokka's room late at night and were gone by morning. Sokka's own mother had been nothing more than her father's mistress.

It was certainly a double standard. Katara had to remain "pure" for her inevitable marriage to some suitor her father chose. She shuddered as Jet's face flashed across her eyes and wrapped her arms more tightly around her legs. Loka had barely even touched her, and it had been too dangerous for him to stay.

Zuko had kissed her.

She wanted to do a lot more than kiss him.

Her mind betrayed her by playing out a whole scene in her head: She wasn't tied down by her title, they were away from the Empire, and they were together. She was allowed to walk down the street holding his hand, kiss him whenever and wherever she wanted. She could touch him, and he could touch her.

Katara shook her head, clearing the image. She knew the dangers and consequences, and if he got hurt, it would be entirely her fault. Groaning, she fell back against the roof. There was no way this could work. With a depressing resolution, Katara decided to break it off. Hopefully, Zuko wouldn't even remember what happened between them last night. After all, they were both pretty drunk. It would be easier that way. She could just say she changed her mind. That wasn't out of character, right? She was a Princess. She could do whatever she wanted and change her mind whenever she wanted—as long as it was okay with her father. Even if things could never be the same, she would rather lose Zuko as a friend than lose him entirely.

A new sound separated itself from the whistle of the breeze and the soft slush of the waves in the distance. Katara sat up and saw a group of people coming through the gate. She huffed. _More nobles, probably._ The Northerners were supposed to leave within the next three days, but some more had been trickling in even though the festivities were over. But then she heard a distinct voice cut through and her stomach sank. Jet was in the group, laughing obnoxiously loud. Looking more closely, she recognized her brother leading the way, and Zuko stood close to him. The way their heads were inclined, it looked as though they were speaking to each other. Katara leaned out over the roof as they reached the steps. Zuko was carrying packs, and they were all dressed in thick parkas with bows slung over their torsos. _They must have been hunting_.

She leaned forward a bit more, but her foot slipped and she began to slide down the slick, sloped roof. She let out a small cry as she groped for purchase before freezing a ledge below her. Only one person in the hunting party stopped, and of course it was the person she most dreaded seeing her. Zuko, who must have heard her, looked up, and she flattened herself against the roof, her chest heaving. She waited a few moments before peeking at the ground. No one was there. Her head dropped back to the cold roof.

She wished she could just stay up there all day. The wind skirted over her face, brushing her hair back. The sky was a perfect blue, and she thought that maybe, if she just didn't move, neither would time. She could just wait in this limbo where everything was still good and she didn't have to marry Jet and Zuko didn't hate her and she didn't have to face her father's wrath for embarrassing him at the ball.

"Limbo could be nice," she said, losing her voice in the wind. But limbo was a luxury that she—even with all the riches in the world—could not afford.

She found Zuko in the armory.

She hovered just outside the door and looked around the corner. He was wiping down a bow, his back to her. Rows of bows, swords, axes, and daggers lined the walls. Spears leaned on wooden racks, their shining blades pointing towards the ceiling. Zuko's parka was thrown over a chair in the corner, and some dark hairs stuck damply to the back of his neck. She could tell his skin was flushed even from across the room, and she wondered if he was just hot or if it was something else. Anger, maybe. If so, what she was about to do wouldn't help. She allowed herself five more seconds to watch him. Five more seconds for possibility. Then, she took a breath and walked into the room. Zuko, hearing her footsteps, turned around immediately.

The way his eyes brightened nearly knocked the air out of her lungs. "Katara!" he exclaimed, and tossed the bow and cloth on a nearby table.

She tried to put on a smile. "Hey."

"I meant to talk to you this morning, but I got stuck with your brother and his…friends."

"I know." He looked at her funny. "I mean, I understand. It's fine."

Zuko crossed the room slowly, as if he might scare her away. She wanted to laugh.

"Look, last night—what happened—spirits, this isn't coming out right." He rubbed the back of his neck, his cheeks flushed.

_Looks like he remembers,_ Katara thought. Even though her head was still aching with the memory of her hangover, she suddenly wished she was still drunk. It would make what she was about to do easier. She took a step towards him. "I wanted to talk about that too."

His face fell at the tone of her voice. "Are you upset?" She could see the disappointment written all over his expression.

"No! No, I'm not upset, Zuko." On instinct her hand moved to touch his cheek, and she had to physically force it back down. "It's just…." She took a deep, shaky breath. "What happened last night was a mistake. A good mistake!" she added quickly, seeing the hurt in his eyes. "But a mistake nonetheless."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

A silence fell between them, a deflated, empty silence unlike the comfortable pauses in conversation they'd shared before. Katara racked her brain, trying to think of the right thing to say.

"Can't we talk about this?" Katara's heart lurched at the note of pleading in Zuko's voice. She could talk about it. She could give him that much. Maybe if he understood the brevity of their situation, he would understand her decision. Katara checked the hall to make sure no one was around, and closed the heavy wooden door, isolating them from the rest of the palace.

"I don't want to do this, Zuko, but—"

"Then don't," he interrupted. As if it were that easy. She walked back to him and shook her head sadly.

"It's too dangerous. Not just for me. For you, too."

Before she could stop him, he cupped the side of her face, and before she could stop herself, she leaned into his touch.

"I never want to put you in the way of danger, Katara," he said. And she believed him completely. "But I can take care of myself."

"I know." But she didn't know, not really. He was skilled with a sword, but there were dangers out there impervious to a piece of metal and a dogged determination. She harbored one of those dangers deep inside of her. Bloodbending wasn't something she had asked for, and although she hated to use it against other people, other people weren't of the same opinion. Her father gave the use of bloodbending the same amount of deliberation as he did choosing what he wanted for breakfast every morning. If it came down to Zuko's sword or her father's bending, there was no question who would win. To continue this—whatever _this_ had become—was irresponsible on her part.

She pulled his hand away. "But if you got hurt because of me, I don't think I could live with that."

" _If_ doesn't mean that I _will_ get hurt." He chuckled softly, sadly. "Don't you have any faith in me?"

She gave him a look and laughed lightly. "Of course I do."

"Then come on. Give it a chance. Give _us_ a chance." He squared his body and put his hands on her shoulders, looking down at her. His familiar eyes burned orange in the dim light, and his palms were warm on the thin fabric of her tunic. _Irresponsible. This is irresponsible,_ said her brain. And it was right. This was a terrible idea. But for so, so long, she had let her brain lead. It made every decision and what had she gained from it? Letting her heart take over had given her Zuko and the most happiness she'd felt in a long time. She had to trust that if her heart got them in trouble, then her brain would help them get out of it.

Zuko, seeing her resolve falter, placed his hands on her neck and ran them up to her jaw. His thumbs traced her lips, sending sparks straight down to her toes. It was incredible how much power he had over her. But she was pleased to find that she didn't mind. She felt safe with him, even though she knew he wouldn't be safe with her. But if he was willing to take that risk….

"No one can know," she whispered. That had to be her one condition, his one protection against her. His smile was brighter than the shine of the sun on the ocean.

"Whatever you say, Princess."

He leaned down, his lips only a breath away.

"Katara," she said. She didn't want to be the princess with him. She didn't want to feel like she belonged to a title. His eyes opened, peering into hers, and he gave her a soft look.

"Katara."

He kissed her, her name falling from his lips, more beautiful than she ever thought her own name could be. Her hands balled against his chest as his mouth moved against hers, as his hands brushed the sides of her face, tangled in her hair. Soon her arms were hooked around his neck and she pressed her body against his, deepening the kiss. Her trepidation melted away with every kiss she pressed to his lips, every breath of his that caressed her cheeks.

Zuko pulled her closer, walking them backwards until he hit what she assumed was a table and she fell into him. He had to grab her waist to keep their balance, and she found herself smiling against his lips. Soon he was smiling too, and their teeth kept clashing together, and they were suddenly laughing instead of kissing.

He looked at her— _really_ looked at her—and she found herself tracing the outline of his scar. She didn't really notice it anymore. Of course she still saw it—it was part of him—but it didn't stand out to her as it once had. "Does this hurt?" she asked, ready to pull back if he said so.

"No." He took her hand in his and pressed it flat against the rough auburn skin surrounding his eye.

"Have you tried having it healed?" As soon as she said it, she wanted to smack herself. Of course he had tried. Why did she always—

"No, I haven't," he said, surprising her. She gave him a questioning look, and he looked away, as if finding the right words to say. "This scar is part of me. It's a reminder of my past. Where I came from and where I'm going."

Katara knew the story. She remembered him speaking in the dim light of her room, remembered overstepping her boundaries, insulting his father. They hadn't talked for a while after that. It was a discussion she still wanted to have, but she had to let him come to her. She wouldn't make that mistake again.

She pressed a chaste kiss to the scar, then wrapped her arms around his waist, leaning her head into the crook of his neck. Although this hadn't gone the way she'd expected, she was happy.

"So, speaking of where you came from," she said into his shoulder, "how was your hunting trip?"

Zuko leaned back to look at her. "I _knew_ I saw you up on that roof!" She giggled, biting her lip. "Agni, Katara. If I thought your brother was bad, those Northerners are, like, a _billion_ times worse."

She laughed at that. "How about I get Toph to make us some tea and you can tell us all about it." She laced her fingers through his and pulled him towards the door.

"Sure. Oh, wait, I forgot something." She expected him to let her go, but instead he tugged her back and grabbed her by the waist, planting a kiss on her lips that made the hair on her arms stand on end.

When they broke apart, she stared up at him, dazed, as he smirked at her. When she could finally form a coherent thought, she said, "Wanna bet how long it takes Toph to figure it out?"

He snorted. "Knowing her, she probably already knows."

She did.


	37. Chapter 37

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really don't have an excuse as to why it has been literal months since I updated (other than I'm a junior in college lmao). I know this isn't the happiest of chapters, but here you go! This is mostly a filler chapter, and I'm not too happy with it, but it was SO HARD to write for some reason. Anyway, the next few chapters are p much ready to go, so stay tuned :) Merry Christmas/Happy Holidays!

**Disclaimer: I don't own A:tLA nor any of its characters.**

* * *

By the time Zuko and Katara went to visit Toph with a fresh pot of tea, the palace was just beginning to wake up. Servants roamed the corridors completeing their chores with lidded eyes and sluggish steps. They'd only seen a few nobles in the courtyard behind the palace sitting beside the frozen pond, conversing quietly and yawning every few seconds. Toph had been waiting in Katara's room, sitting on the side of her bed, arms crossed and expression stony. She hadn't seemed surprised to find Zuko walk in behind Katara. She'd merely dragged them both upstairs to the room she and Zuko frequented to strategize, slammed the door, and demanded to know why Katara hadn't been in her room that morning.

Katara simply looked at Zuko, but it was enough to tip Toph off. He always forgot the earthbender was more perceptive than she let on.

"So it finally happened, huh?"

Katara notched an eyebrow at her. "How did you—"

"Can it, Sweetums," Toph cut her off. "I knew this was coming before either of you did." Katara rolled her eyes and Zuko glared at the earthbender through the blossom of steam rising from the kettle of tea between them. She sat with her legs propped up on the table, arms crossed, as per usual. But there were dark circles under her eyes and her skin was slightly paler than normal, as if she were getting ill. Zuko made a mental note to ask her later.

"I don't want to know all the gory details." Toph visibly shuddered. "Just be careful, alright?"

"I think we can handle ourselves," Zuko said, hearing how defensive he sounded. It was the same argument he'd had with Katara, and the fact that he was having it now with Toph, too, was frustrating. But he didn't doubt his decision. He watched as Katara took a small sip of her tea and smiled at the way her eyes closed contentedly, how the lines in her face softened as if the warm drink melted her stress away.

"Oh, please stop," Toph groaned at Zuko. "I can feel your heartbeat all the way over here." She crossed her legs on the seat of the chair—she had ripped both sides of her dress to reveal leggings underneath. He could only imagine how livid the palace seamstress, Koma, would be if she found out. At her words, Katara gave Zuko a questioning look and he worked to keep his blush under control.

Toph turned to Katara. "Oh, by the way Princess, your pops wanted to talk to you. He had his maid give me this note." Leaning across the table, she tossed a folded piece of paper at Katara, who read it for a few moments, her brows knitted together.

"I'd better go." Katara finally said, setting her cup on the table. "I guess I'll see you both later?" At the door, she looked back at Zuko with a sweet smile. It was pleasantly odd how much he depended on 'later.' As soon as the door was closed, Toph slammed her palms on the table, making the teapot rattle.

"Are you _crazy?_ " she half-shouted.

Zuko frowned. "What's your problem?"

"I asked you to protect the royal family, not shack up with them!"

This time, his blush was uncontrollable as it raced up his cheeks to the tips of his ears. "No—I—we're not _shacking up_ , Toph, for Agni's sake!"

Toph's hands had curled into fists and he could tell how much she wanted to launch herself across the table and sock him in the jaw.

But he stood his ground. "If anything, you should be thanking me. This way Katara won't be suspicious if I start hanging around her more."

Toph's eyes narrowed angrily. "So this whole _thing_ between you two is just, what, part of the plan?"

"I—no, that's not—ugh." Zuko buried his face in his hands. It was nearing midday now, but it was still too early for him to be dealing with Toph. "No. I'm just saying that having our _thing_ is convienent for me to protect her. And Sokka. And her mother. Even the Emperor." Zuko wasn't convinced about this last part, but it couldn't hurt to throw in. Toph levelled a look at him. She was probably trying to tell if he was lying. But he wasn't. At least, not about all of it. He knew that what he and Katara had was _real,_ and that he'd do anything to protect her. With any luck, she'd never have to find out that she needed protecting. That annoying voice in his head bitingly laughed at him.

_You're the one she needs protecting from,_ it said, and he closed his eyes. He knew that things had changed. But he couldn't help but remember what his original purpose in coming to the Southern Empire had been. Despite himself, he wondered how his family was doing. They should have received his letter by now. He didn't expect a reply—it would give him away instantly, and his parents knew that. But he hoped they had gotten out of the city, or at least figured out who was spying on them. How disappointed would they be in him, that he hadn't managed to complete his mission; that he probably never would? Zuko shook his head, clearing his thoughts. He couldn't dwell on that. If—no, _when_ the time came to decide the fate of the Emperor, he would deal with it then. Right now, he had a responsibility to Katara, and to those she cared about.

Toph hadn't said anything since he sunk into his thoughts, and when he climbed his way back out, she was simply watching him. He licked his lips nervously.

"Fine," she sighed. "But remember what I said: be careful."

Zuko nodded once, his eyes downcast, and she left the room. Zuko remained at the table, the last wisps of steam from the tea disappearing into the air. Zuko held the pot between his hands, pretending Uncle had brewed it. He could almost smell his signature mint jasmine tea, although he knew it was really only chamomile. He took a few calming breaths, making his fire simmer down, and let it travel through his palms into the cool water. Within a matter of seconds, the steam had started flowing from the spout once more, and Zuko smiled.

Jin, Orchard, Tuuk, and Karper were already sitting at a long, wooden table in the mess hall when Zuko arrived for lunch. Orchard was the one who saw him and waved him over.

"Hi everyone," said Zuko to his friends, three of whom responded cordially. He sat down beside Jin, who wouldn't even look up from her plate. Zuko nudged her with his elbow. "Hey, Jin."

She stabbed a sea prune with unnecessary force and stuffed it into her mouth. Zuko glanced at Orchard who give him a sideways smile, as if to say, _You asked for it._

Zuko frowned, confused, until he realized; he had disappeared from the ball. To be with Katara. Zuko bit his lip. No surprise Jin was angry with him.

Swallowing his pride, Zuko nudged her again. This time she looked up only to glare at him, murder in her eyes. He tried to look ashamed. "Sorry about last night. I guess I forgot to tell you that I had to leave."

"Yeah," she snapped. "You did. We had to do your work _and_ clean up for you. Where did you go, anyway?" The three other people at the table became all of a sudden intensely interested with the gray piles of slop on their plates. Zuko grimaced. _I guess I'm on my own._

"I'm really sorry for disappearing like that. Thank you for helping with my work. All of you," he addressed the group. Karper waved him off and Tuuk and Orchard grinned. Jin still held her fork like she wanted to shove it through his eye.

"Where were you?" she repeated, her voice low.

"I—I was…" he trailed off. He couldn't tell her the truth, especially not with so many people around. "There were some things I had to take care of."

Jin's eyes narrowed. "Some things."

He nodded. She opened her mouth, as if to question him further, but then pursed her lips. "Some things, or some one?"

He didn't know how to respond. Tuuk was the only one paying attention to them now, Orchard and Karper in the middle of a conversation about a pack of polar bear dogs spotted in the East. But as soon as he caught Zuko's stink-eye he grinned fakely and stood, plate in his hand. "I'm going to throw this out."

As soon as he was gone, Zuko turned back to Jin. "I can't really talk about this here," he said under his breath.

A light seemed to turn on in Jin's eyes, and her glare softened. "Ah. I see."

_Does she know?_ Zuko wondered, trying to read her. She looked…he couldn't place her expression. It was somewhere between resignation and disappointment. He put a hand over hers, and when she didn't pull away, took it as a sign to continue. "I really am sorry, Jin. I don't appreciate your friendship nearly enough."

She sighed, watching their hands. Her free hand drummed on the table, as if she was contemplating something. Then, finally, she gave him a small smile. "You're not wrong about that." But she didn't say it maliciously, and Zuko felt his chest relax.

"Okay, okay, break it up," a voice cut in, and a body shoved its way in between the two of them. Toph plopped two plates of sea prunes and seal jerky on the table and dug out a space for herself on the bench. Jin recoiled, irritation plain on her face, and Zuko growled.

"Toph, there are a million seats in this place."

"Yes," she replied, ripping off a piece of jerky. "And I want this one." She shot a wide grin at Zuko, bits of meat stuck in her teeth. He flicked her on the forehead. To his surprise, Jin began laughing.

"What? What's happening?" Orchard asked, tuned back into their conversation. "Oh, hi Toph. You've got some…" she pointed at her bared teeth. Toph opened her mouth, revealing chunks of half-eaten food, and Orchard squealed, making Jin laugh harder. Even Zuko cracked a smile.

* * *

"Now that you've all arrived," the Emperor began with a pointed look at Katara, "let us begin."

Katara sat to the right of her father, Sokka to his left, and the rest of the table in the war room was filled by the commanders of the Water Empire's military. The note Toph had given her contained the details of the meeting Hakoda had scheduled last minute, the meeting which Katara had already been late to when she received the note. Katara kept her face still, refusing to let her embarrassment alter her features. After the fiasco that was her performance at the banquet and her disappearance from the ball, she couldn't afford to have her people think of her any less than they surely already did—especially not the heads of the military.

Hakoda gestured to the scrolls laid in front of each seat. "This is the first draft of the plans to invade the Fire Nation. General Attika, Admiral Bato and I have worked tirelessly since the Summit to prepare a foolproof plan, one that will ensure our victory overseas. I present it to you all today."

Katara expected shouting, cries of exhilaration like at the Summit, but it was strangely quiet. The commanders simply looked over the plan, nodding or shaking their heads, an occasional grunt of confusion. In her mind, Katara could see the nobles sitting in their places hanging onto Hakoda's every word, raising hell when he said something they liked, which was nearly everything. The men around her now, however, had experience with war: it was not something they were necessarily eager to get into. They knew the inevitable prices they would have to pay, the lives they would lose. While the nobles were rabid flame, the commanders of the Empire were the smoldering coals beneath the fire.

Katara realized she still had much to learn, starting with the battle plan.

She had to give Hakoda credit—it was thorough. The Empire already had a small band of spies in place in Caldera who were smuggling out information. Once they were informed of an opportunity, the Water Empire would employ a group of soldiers to infiltrate the Fire Nation palace and stage a coup to take down the royal family. From there they would spread through Caldera and the Capital—Katara frowned, remembering how upset Zuko had been when he learned the Capital would be targeted—and Bato would follow close behind leading a naval battalion.

Katara glanced at the Admiral, the most decorated sailor in all the Empire, and her father's former best friend. Ever since he was promoted Katara did not see Bato often, but she used to, back when she was just a child and he was just a Captain and her father still had some human qualities. It was probably for the best they had drifted apart—if would've broken Katara's heart if Bato was poisoned by power like Hakoda had been.

Bato was frowning at his scroll, his eyebrows bunched together. The wrinkles around his striking blue eyes seemed more pronounced than they had ever been.

"4,000 troops?" he said aloud, and half the room looked up at him, including Hakoda.

"Is there a problem, Admiral?" the Emperor asked, a warning in his voice. The purpose of revealing the battle plans to military personnel was to prevent any oversights, any inconsistencies— _not_ to argue against it. In any way.

Katara knew this. Bato also knew this by the way he hesitated before saying, "Sending 4,000 seamen…it will be a slaughter for our people."

Hakoda's mouth tightened. "4,000 troops should be more than adequate to secure the Fire Nation Capital, Admiral."

"With all due respect, your Highness," Bato pressed, not meeting Hakoda's eyes, "you forget that the Fire Nation Navy is one of the most powerful in the world. Even with that many waterbenders we would need to launch a full-scale attack from both the East _and_ the West to—"

Hakoda held up a hand, silencing his friend. General Attika, sitting to Katara's left, spoke up. "Only 1,000 of the 4,000 will be waterbenders, Admiral, and they _will_ enter from the West. 3,000 Earth Kingdom soldiers will attack simultaneously from the East, sourcing from our posts in Gaipan and Omashu."

"Earthbenders, you mean?" Katara said before she could stop herself. She could feel Hakoda glaring at her, but kept her gaze trained on General Attika, who shifted uncomfortably. "You'll be sending earthbending troops, correct?"

"No, your Highness. Our earthbenders are already spread too thin in the mines surrounding Ba Sing Se, and defending the rest of the coast." The General licked his lips. "The 3,000 non-bending soldiers will be a decoy to throw the Fire Nation navy off the trail of the Empire waterbenders approaching from the West."

Katara's jaw dropped. Even Sokka, sitting across from her, had the decency to look subdued. _I should have expected this_ , Katara thought to herself. Her father was evil, vindictive, and cruel. He never did anything by the rules unless it benefitted him personally. He'd cheat his way to the Fire Nation throne, cut down the Fire Lord in his sleep, even kill a child to get what he wanted.

"You can't." Katara's voice was low, but every head around the table snapped up. "Bato's right," she said, pointing to the Admiral, desperately trying to get them to see reason. "It'll be a slaughter! What kind of message are we trying to send? How will the Fire Nation citizens ever succumb to our rule if we show we're willing to slaughter anyone who isn't Water Empire if it is in our best interests?"

Bato started to say something to her, but with a sharp glance Hakoda cut him off. All of a sudden Katara couldn't breathe. She felt as though everything was moving in slow motion, like she could fall asleep instantly and never wake up.

_Bloodbending._ The Emperor held up his hand. His eyes narrowed as they watched his daughter gasp for breath.

And then, he smiled. "My daughter, you should not be so quick to offer your strategic opinion when you cannot even protect yourself." His hand fell and his hold on her with it. Katara's head fell to the table, her lungs on fire. Before she knew what was happening, she heard the doors open and guards barking orders, scuffling feet, muffled cries.

Four people were paraded into the room, their heads covered with burlap sacks. Katara winced as they were shoved to their knees by the guards. Hakoda gave a signal and the sacks were removed. Katara forced down a gasp; she recognized them instantly. Their clothes were torn and their faces were dirtier than when they had previously met, but behind the grime, Katara knew them as her attackers from the village. The waterbender—the one with the scar—scanned the room, passing each face before landing on Katara. She expected to see confusion, terror, _something._ Instead, he simply looked resigned. Like he had known this was coming all along. She couldn't say the same for his companions who were groveling at the Emperor as if their lives depended on it, which they likely did.

But Katara was not safe, either. Her father had somehow found out about her situation in the village. Between her previous mistakes and the disasterious ball, this was the very last thing she needed. From the way Hakoda was looking at her, she knew he was mocking her and praising himself for further proving her weakness—this time, in front of witnesses.

"You call yourself a master waterbender—you strive to be the military leader of this empire—yet you couldn't even protect yourself against an amateur waterbender and a couple of non-benders, despite every advantage." He laughed condescendingly. "Poor form, my daughter. I'm surprised you managed to survive at all."

Katara's breath caught in her throat, but it wasn't because of him. Did he know about Toph's involvement, her abilities? She forced herself to stay calm and say nothing, as she didn't want to mistakeningly give anything away, but her heart raced in her chest.

Hakoda laughed again. "If the village officers hadn't shown up, Sokka here might've had a chance at taking the throne." Sokka gave his father a forced smile, but Katara didn't have the energy to feel sympathy for him. She locked eyes with the waterbender who merely raised his chin. But it was enough. He hadn't told about Toph. She had no idea why not, but she found herself insanely, inexplicably grateful towards this man who had tried to kill her, yet potentially saved the life of her friend.

"Nevertheless," Hakoda continued, standing up and motioning for Katara to do the same, "attacking a member of the royal family is considered treason, no matter the cause which they will not disclose. And the punishment for treason is death. Therefore," he raised his eyebrows at his daughter, "you shall kill them."

Katara, standing before the four men, froze. She barely heard the snickers of Sokka from the opposite side of the room, or the intake of breath from someone at the table. When she looked back at the commanders, they all appeared stoic, save for Sokka who was fully grinning, leaning forward as if to get a closer look.

"Your Highness," Katara breathed, "I don't know if—"

"You dare doubt my decision _again_?" he bellowed, grabbing Katara by her braid and pulling her head back. She winced, fighting her instinct to lurch forward, as she knew he would not let go. He tugged again and her scalp screamed at her. Through the slit of her eye, Katara saw the waterbender watching her, something akin to pity on his face.

_I cannot do this,_ Katara realized with sinking clarity. Despite everything these criminals had done to her, had almost done to her country, she could not kill them in cold blood. She looked at her father, steeling herself. Seeing her resolve his nostrils began to flare and she could see the fury in every line of his face. He threw her back against the table and, without a second thought, sent four shards of ice into the hearts of the four men.

Each one doubled over, screams ripping from their throats. If their hands had not been bound behind their backs, Katara knew they'd be clutching at their chests, trying to remove the ice. But Hakoda was slowly shoving it deeper, inch by inch. Katara ducked her head, trying to drown out the animalistic sounds.

It took minutes for the men to die, but it seemed like hours. Katara was the last one in the war room after the meeting was over. Bato had tried to talk to her after everyone else had left, but she wouldn't respond. She merely sat there, staring at the four bloodstains on the floor where the assassins had drawn their final, agonized breaths. She hated her father for not simply stopping their hearts when he had the ability to shorten their pain. She hated him for approving the invasion plan and the slaughter of thousands of innocent people. She hated him for being alive.

She hated herself for not being able to stop him.


	38. Chapter 38

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy 2017 everyone! Hopefully, this will be the year I finish this ridiculous story. Fingers crossed. Anyway, I've had a lot of this chapter written for like MONTHS and I'm so happy to give it to you! (Although I'm p sure some of you will hate me for the ending, even though you had to have known it was coming.) Sorry that the Katara half is twice as long as Zuko's--that's just the way it turned out. Please comment if you liked this chapter, or if you have speculations to make, or constructive criticism! Also, fanart is bae *insert finger guns here* ;) ;) ;) (thanks again to randomdays45 for their incredible fanart http://randomdays45.tumblr.com/image/143625786407)  
> Also also, sorry if the formatting of this chap is all wacky. I still don't know how to internet.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own Avatar

When Zuko and Toph found Katara in the war council room hours later, she wouldn’t respond to either of them. She stared at a random spot across the room, eyes fixed, face emotionless. Only when Toph punched her in the arm did Katara finally look up to yell at the earthbender. But before she could, her face crumbled and she pulled Toph to her, apologizing over and over again. Toph had looked over Katara’s head at Zuko, wide-eyed, but he just shrugged. Katara wouldn’t tell them why she was sorry, nor could she say what had happened in the meeting. They took her up to the mess hall and Loq made her squid stew, which looked and smelled like tar (she ate four servings, which made Zuko want to chuck up the sea prunes he’d had earlier).

            Toph insisted on taking Katara back to her room after that. “ _Alone_ , Sparky,” she’d said as Zuko made to follow them, even though he was dying to know what had happened in the meeting. He had a heavy feeling in the pit of his stomach that it was about the Fire Nation invasion. Was it going forward? Had it already begun? He longed to send out another message to his family, but without Katara’s help, it was impossible. So he kept his distance for the day and let Toph take care of Katara. He was concerned, of course, but if whatever had upset her had to do with his home country, he didn’t want to make things worse for her.

Instead he attended to Sokka the next day, which, after all, was his actual job. The two hadn’t interacted much since the disasterous hunting trip, and Zuko did not know where he stood with the prince. Jet and Hahn and the rest of their pompous Northern friends had left without causing any more trouble, as least to Zuko’s knowledge. He still couldn’t believe the arrogance they’d demonstrated. If he’d been disrespected like that back in the Fire Nation, his father wouldn’t have hesitated to banish them from the country. But Zuko wouldn’t have let them tarnish his honor in such a manner to begin with. He’d had more than enough of that in his youth, by his own sister no less.

Shamefully, Zuko realized he hadn’t truly thought about Azula in a long time. With everything that had happened, he’d forgotten the rage over her death that had inspired his mission to the Southern Water Empire in the first place.

Oddly, however, the thought of her murder didn’t send plumes of smoke from his hands as it used to. Of course, it still pained him. And surely, deep inside, he was still grieving. He didn’t know if that would ever stop. But he wasn’t _angry_ , though he knew he should be. He thought that maybe living here, seeing the other side of the cruel Water Empire—namely, Katara—had helped him overcome the unadulterated hatred that had fueled his vengence. Perhaps his was no longer a vendetta against a tyrannical country—perhaps now it was a vendetta against its tyrannical ruler.

This revelation came to him as he approached the training room, and his steps stuttered. Months ago, he would have been plotting ways to disable the two guards standing beside the doors to get the prince alone. But now he merely nodded to the guards, who opened the doors for him automatically. Inside, Sokka was casually going through his warmups with a dull-pointed sabre. There was already a glisten of sweat across his forehead which he hurriedly wiped away when he saw Zuko eyeing it.

“Thanks for finally showing up,” the prince dryly said.

“I’m here now, aren’t I?” Zuko made his way over to the rack of weapons and selected an identical blade, testing its weight. He was surprised they weren’t using broad or longswords, something that would hurt a little more if Sokka managed to catch him off-guard. Moreover, the guards had not joined them in the training room—they were quite alone. Zuko ran a finger along the long, skinny metal to the sabre’s hilt. The traitorous thoughts he expected to intrude stayed quiet, locked in the recesses of his mind. Sokka circled him twice before stopping a few yards away and raising his sabre.

“You ready, peasant?”

Zuko smirked. “Are you sure you aren’t out of shape from all that banquet feasting?” he fired back.

Sokka surprised him by chuckling softly and saying, “I wasn’t the one dragging in the back of our hunting group.” Zuko rolled his eyes. Sokka flicked his sabre at Zuko, taunting him, then lunged. The prince’s attacks weren’t as mindless as the first time they’d sparred. He’d obviously been practicing, even in their off-time.

But Zuko was still better. Sokka only had him on the defense for a few minutes before Zuko launched into offensive mode, slashing left and right, making the prince shuffle backwards towards the wall. Zuko cackled, then said, “Well, you weren’t carrying fifty pounds of seal jerky and furs on your back either, your _Highness_.”

Sokka fended off Zuko’s blade, and the shrill contact of metal on metal made them both flinch. Sokka cracked a smile. “Touché, fire brat.”

 ___

He was heading back to the servant’s quarters later that night in the empty hallway, remminscing on the downright unusual training session he’d had with the prince. For once, Sokka had seemed to enjoy himself, and not in a malicious way. Although Zuko had a fine-looking bruise on his right bicep from one of the prince’s lucky shots, he wasn’t really injured. He wasn’t bleeding, at least. And, looking back, Zuko had to admit he’d almost enjoyed himself, as well. Almost. Although he no longer wished the prince a slow, tortuous death at his own hands, Zuko could never forget that he was still his slave.

He was almost to the room when he heard his name whispered through the dark hall. He paused, one hand on the door handle, and Toph came rushing from the opposite end of the corridor. It wasn’t until she was feet away that he saw the look on her usually-composed face.

“What’s wrong, Toph?” he asked at once. “What happened?”

Her eyebrows turned in. “I just found out—well, Katara told me—she just got some news.”

“What?”

She hesitated. “You should go ask her yourself.” He didn’t need to be told twice. If something had Toph this shaken, it had to be serious. He took the stairs two at a time, a difficult task considering he had to be quiet as well. The palace guards were already making their evening rounds and he had to take care to avoid their detection, especially as he approached the royal family’s quarters. Fortunately, he did not have to wait long outside Katara’s room; as soon as he knocked, she opened the door and pulled him inside, apparently expecting him. He barely had time to stutter a quick hello before she had pinned him frozen with her eyes. They were swimming with panic.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, taking a step towards her. She didn’t move, but he could tell she wasn’t in the room with him: her mind was far away.

“I’m so sorry, Zuko,” she started, adding to his worry.

“For what?”

She bit her lip. “My father…he’s upset with me. Something happened at the war council and…well, long story short, he’s punishing me.”

            He grasped her shoulders. “How can I help?” Whatever it was, they could figure it out, the two of them. If he had to get her out of the palace, out of the city, he would. They’d find a way. Hakoda’s sharp blue eyes reflected across his vision, so much harder and indifferent than the pair of ocean eyes that met his own now. Katara put a hand on Zuko’s shoulder and he lessened his grip.

            “I don’t think you can.”

            He breathed out, starting to get frustrated. “Why not? Why are you being so secretive, Katara?”

            Her mouth became a tight line. “Because I shouldn’t be telling you this, but I know you’d want to know, even if there’s nothing you can do.”

            _It’s the invasion,_ Zuko realized with a start. He felt his heart drop to his stomach. _My family. My country._ He had hoped the Emperor would put it off since the Summit had only just ended. Had the nobles even returned to the North yet? How would they fund their generals and soldiers from a ship on the ocean?

            His hands dropped as his world came crashing down around him. Katara walked away and paced the length of her room. He’d been right when Toph came to get him. This _was_ serious. The invasion was beginning. And he was too late. He had failed his mission, and—

            “It’s the refugees.”

            Zuko’s train of thought came to an abrupt halt. “The refugees?” he repeated dumbly.

            Katara nodded. “The prisoners who were sent to the Pit. In retaliation for my misbehavior, my father has scheduled the first refugee executions. For tomorrow evening.” She licked her lips. “It will be in the village square.”

_A public execution._ Zuko stared ahead, not really seeing anything. He couldn’t quite make out his feelings. On the one hand, he was relieved his family was safe, at least for another day. His worst fears hadn’t come to fruition—at least, not yet. On the other hand, he had been dreading this. He knew the day would come when the refugees would have to suffer the consequence of—of _what_ , exactly?

“They haven’t done anything wrong!” Zuko nearly shouted, as if he could reason their way out of this.

“I know, Zuko.”

“They were taken from their homes by _your_ soldiers on _your_ father’s orders!”

“Zuko. I know.”

“How can your people justify such a barbaric death?”

“I _know!_ ” Katara did shout, and they both silenced, listening for guard’s footsteps. Luckily, they heard none, and the quiet gave Zuko a chance to cool down.

As soon as she deemed it safe, Katara shook her head and whispered, “I mean, I _don’t_ know. My father is calling them traitors, saying they were part of an uprising to overthrow the Empire.”

Zuko’s throat went dry. “They weren’t part of any uprising.” _That_ he could be certain of. “They just didn’t want to be arrested and killed,” he said, his voice cracking on the last word. That was the only reason they were taken to this spiritforsaken land in the first place. And now they would die here without even a chance to say goodbye to their friends and loved ones. He couldn’t help thinking: _Just like Azula._ “Katara, you must do something.”

Her hand rubbed the back of her neck. “I’ve told you, this is only happening because I disappointed my father. He’s being generous by not making me attend the execution—he’s probably just afraid I’d wimp out and not be able to go through with it and embarrass him in front of all our people.” She began to ramble, pacing again. “I can’t voice my opposition. If I did it in private he’d just ignore me. If I did it in front of the nobles or the court, he’d kill more of them just to spite me. Zuko,” she pleaded, refocusing on him, “my hands are tied! There’s nothing I can do.” Her eyes fell to the floor. “I just thought you’d want to know.”

Although Zuko understood her reasoning, he wasn’t happy about it. He did appreciate that she told him, though. He had been one of the refugees. He had shared food and fires with them. Tears pricked the back of his eyes as he remembered seeing Roz for the first time. He’d shared a tent with the boy who looked so much like himself when he was younger, whom he imagined Roku would grow up to resemble. He had stopped Zuko from fighting the guards, probably saving his life, but condemning his own. He could still see his golden eyes, his Fire Nation eyes, staring at him from the clutches of a Water Empire soldier. Roz could be in the execution lineup. And Zuko would have to stand by, complacent, as one of his own citizens was murdered.

_No._

Zuko felt his hands tighten into fists. He had put up with a lot since he’d arrived in this icy hell-hole, but this was not something he could tolerate. He would not.

With a newfound determination, he turned to the door.

“Zuko,” Katara’s soft voice stopped him. He looked over his shoulder. She stood on the opposite side of the room, her arms crossed over her body as if she could make herself smaller. “Please don’t do anything stupid.”

Unable to promise her that, Zuko merely nodded in acknowledgment. Then he left.

Upstairs, Zuko roused Jin from her pallet and brought her to the room he and Toph used to meet.

After ensuring the door was tightly closed, he rounded on her. “Jin. I need your help.”

* * *

 

            Katara hadn’t seen Zuko since he left her room the night before. She could still see the hurt on his face when she told him she couldn’t do anything to help the refugees. Like she was some kind of heartless monster. Like she didn’t still see their eyes in her nightmares, peering up at her as she walked the length of the line on the shore, assessing who would live and who would die.

She wandered the corridors, smiling absently at the maids and courtiers she ran into, barely hearing their muted greetings. When she’d questioned Toph earlier that day the girl merely shrugged, saying she didn’t know where he was either, but she was obviously lying. It only confirmed what Katara had feared: he was avoiding her. She couldn’t really blame him. After the war council she had refused to see him, although for very different reasons. She felt immensely guilty for not saying anything about the invasion, but she couldn’t. She knew he’d want to contact his family again, and with the post being more heavily inspected in the village ever since her father’s plan was approved, there was no chance it would get through. And if Hakoda found out someone had leaked his plans, she would be his first suspect. He always said that compassion was her greatest weakness. Even if she managed to lie her way out of it, he wouldn’t stop until he revealed who had written the letter. So, really, there was no point in telling Zuko.

            _Then why did you tell him about the execution?_

Katara leaned against a blue velvet tapesty on the wall. The cool ice behind the fabric chilled her skin through her thin dress, but she could hardly feel it. She’d been numb ever since receiving the note from her father’s servant detailing the proceedings of the execution. Perhaps some traitorous part of her hoped that Zuko would be able to do something about it. Or maybe she just knew if she didn’t tell him, and he inevitably found out, that she would never gain his forgiveness. The same logic could be applied to her knowledge about the invasion, and the realization made her sick to her stomach.

            But she’d known from the beginning of their friendship and ‘courtship’ that they were doomed anyway, so what did it matter if he’d eventually hate her? At the very least she could enjoy herself for a little while. And pretend that she wasn’t the worst person on the face of the planet. _Okay, well, maybe not the_ worst, she conceded. _The daughter and successor of the worst person, which really only makes me the second-worst person. That is, until I take the throne._

She scoffed. She was trying to manipulate even herself. Where would the lies end?

A servant passed Katara wearing the dark blue robes of the cleaning staff. She bowed her head and quietly greeted her princess, but her eyes never left the floor. In her hands she carried a bowl of red berries, probably on her way to her mother’s chambers. There seemed to be a sadness among the palace staff today. Word must have spread about the execution. Other than Toph, Katara wondered how many of her own servants had known the refugees, perhaps even had been a refugee at one point. She watched the woman walk down the hall, her dress billowing out behind her, fluid, like water. Katara was surrounded by water: the walls of ice, the snow outside, the water inside her body and blood. Sometimes she forgot what a powerful force her element was.

The servant disappeared around the corner, but not before an idea had begun to form in Katara’s mind.

I _might not be able to do anything about the execution,_ she thought, a smile tugging at her lips. _But I know someone who can._

_____

If the palace atmosphere was subdued, the atmostphere of the village was the complete opposite. The main street leading from the gates of the palace to the village square was illuminated by flaming torches on both sides. The fire flickered against the stone pathway slicked over with ice and bounced across the faces of the buildings which were empty since everyone was congregating in the square. A platform of wood had been constructed in front of the fountain, and the crowd surrounding it was at least twenty people deep on all sides. Katara crept along the shadowy side of a tannery off to the right, out of eyesight.

No one would recognize her as Katara, Heir to the Water Empire throne. But they would definitely recognize her as the Painted Lady, ancient water spirit of the Jang Hui River. The Painted Lady was a revered spirit of the Water Empire. She’d learned of the powerful and benevolent spirit in her lessons when she was young, admiring this female figure who managed to gain the respect of even her father. Although the South had longed stopped worshipping her, she knew the practice was still alive in Jang Hui.

She hoped that, if she was seen, the Southerners would be too afraid to try and catch her. Like their other ridiculous traditions, the South was still highly superstitutious, especially of ancient dieties.

A wave of silence rippled through the gathered crowd and Katara looked up to the platform. A stoic Empire soldier approached the stairs. Five prisoners followed closely behind, all bound at the wrists and blinded by black sacks over their heads. All at once the noise started up again, tenfold. People began to shout and jeer at the refugees, crying out _traitors_ and _conspirators,_ and threw rotten food at them. One refugee, who was so thin that the ropes around his wrists had been wrapped at least four times, staggered back when a tomato his him in the chest. He fell onto the platform, and Katara winced at the way his bones jostled just underneath the surface of his sallow skin. But her people had no sympathy for him. They shouted louder, more derogatory words at him, and another soldier grabbed him by the arm and dragged him to his position beside the other refugees.

They all faced the crowd, heads bowed beneath their sacks. Their uniforms—threadbare pants and shirts issued to every prisoner at the Pit—were torn and ragged. The clothes hung off them like children playing dress-up. Katara’s stomach was turning. She had known the conditions of the Pit were less than ideal, but this? This was inhumane, even for her father.

As if summoned by her, the Emperor emerged from behind the platform flanked by palace guards. Sokka was behind him, decked out in war paint and his armor. Much to the chagrin of her husband, Kya was the only member of the royal family who had stayed behind—other than Katara herself, who was supposed to be in the palace. Katara had heard her parents arguing down the hall before her father had stormed to her own room to make sure she was still there. She hadn’t opened the door for him since she was already in her body paint and disguise, and he hadn’t insisted. He’d simply instructed a guard to stand watch there all night to make sure she didn’t try to escape. After her father and Sokka had left, she’d knocked out the guard and locked him in a closet down the hall, then bent her way through a wall on the second floor, out of the palace.

The Emperor scanned the crowd, and Katara pulled down the straw hat she wore, covering her face, even though his eyes didn’t pass over her. He was too enraptured by the energy of the crowd to notice someone lurking in the shadows. He ascended the steps to the platform and raised his hands, silencing his people.

“The five prisoners standing before you are traitors to the Empire,” he announced, his voice echoing over the square. “Guilty of treason against our country, and of conspiracy against your Emperor, they have been sentenced to death.”

Some of the refugees started forward, shaking their heads desperately, but the soldiers stopped them.

_They’ve been gagged,_ Katara realized. _To keep them from revealing the truth._

            She glared at her father, who was surveying the throbbing crowd with hungry eyes. She would expect nothing less from him.

            He stepped to the side, giving the people full view of the refugees. At Hakoda’s command, the soldiers took their positions behind them. Katara’s beath caught. Usually at public executions, the deaths were swift; a cut throat or asphyxiation by bloodbending. But the soldiers were preparing to do the same thing the Emperor had done to the assassins in the war council room, which would be a laggard, painful death. The Emperor raised his hand, preparing to give the execution command.

            Katara stepped forward into the light, calling the water from her skins, when a metallic shriek cut through the air, stopping only when a dagger buried itself into the neck of one of the soldiers.

            There was a split second of hesitation, confusion—and then there was chaos. The Emperor immediately had an ice spear in his hand and his personal guards were quick to close into protective formation around him. Sokka was ushered out of the square by his own guards despite his protests, and the soldier with the dagger in his body dropped to the platform, lifeless. Seemingly out of nowhere, three more daggers sliced between the refugees, two hitting their marks and sending the soldiers to the ground. The crowd surged with people trying to get to safety and soldiers trying to find the assailant. Katara darted out into the street when one soldier shouted and pointed to an alley to the left of the square. Sure enough, a figure dressed in black, donning a blue and white mask, emerged from the darkness, pulling two swords off his back.

A woman near him screamed “ _The Blue Spirit!”_ and ran in the opposite direction. It didn’t look like a spirit: It appeared to be a man. But from this distance, Katara couldn’t be sure. He faced the soldiers and although Katara couldn’t see his face, she somehow knew he was daring them to take him on.

            _You idiot,_ she thought. A man ran into her shoulder, pushing her aside without a second glance, desperate to get away from what looked like was turning into a full-out brawl. More soldiers had circled the mysterious assailant, and more were on their way. It seemed as though the refugees had been momentarily forgotten, though her father was screaming at his soldiers to get back to killing them, and some were beginning to listen.

Katara glanced up at the sky. The clouds, almost like smoke, had nearly blotted out the full moon. She smiled. Winding up her arms, she sent a stream of water around the square, extinguishing the torches providing all the light. Instantly, the area went black. There were more screams as people were cast into darkness, her father’s voice the loudest among them.

Katara didn’t waste time. Although she couldn’t see too well either, her eyes adjusted quickly, and she sprinted towards the platform, knocking out a few soldiers on her way up the steps. Her father was being dragged away by his guards and she heard his protests echo down the street. Two soldiers shot ice spears at her as she touched down on the platform and she twisted, avoiding each, then redirected them. The spears caught each soldier by their shoulder guards and flung them off the platform, pegging them against a nearby hut. She was about to reach for the first refugee when something whistled in her ear, and she jerked back just in time to see a soldier, his sword raised to her, fall with a sword in his stomach.

She gulped, realizing how close she had been to…

She shook her head and looked out over the square. The Blue Spirit was bounding towards her, one sword less. He lept up onto the platform, and she prepared herself to fight, but he completely ignored her. Instead, he began silently sawing through the ropes of each refugee. She stood there, gaping, only now understanding: He had saved her life.

Katara shook her head. She couldn’t think about that right now. The soldiers that the Blue Spirit had fended off were pounding down the street towards them. She took a protective stance in front of the refugees, hoping she could keep the soldiers away long enough for the assailant to free them.

The soldiers sent jets of water at her, intending to knock her away, but she split them in half, sending them to either side of the platform. A flurry of ice daggers came at her from the right, and she melted them and used the water to freeze the legs of a group of non-bending soldiers to the ground. She saw something glint out of the corner of her eye, heard a high-pitched shriek, and turned just in time to stop an ice spear from impaling one of the refugees. The woman had pulled the sack off her head, her wide eyes trained on the threatening point hovering inches from her face. She let out a shaky breath at it dripped to water in front of her feet. The assailant looked from the refugee to Katara.

“Go that way!” Katara jerked her head towards a side street. “I’ll cover you!” He hesitated only a second before shoving the refugees off the stage in the direction Katara had told them to go. She followed behind, bending a shield around them and sending thick streams of water at the soldiers closest to her, knocking them off their feet. Katara could feel the full moon thrumming in her veins, its power coursing through her like pure adrenaline. She knew that, if she wanted to, she could bloodbend every soldier and send them to their knees.

Katara shuddered at her own mind, at the image of the soldiers bending to her will, and put it out of her thoughts.

As soon as they were all out, Katara lifted a barrier of water around the entire village square, cutting them off from the soldiers, and froze it solid. She held it as she ran towards the rest of the group, her limbs shaking with the effort. She knew that as soon as she lost focus the soldiers would be able to get through, but hopefully it would give them enough time to get to the docks.

The assailant had somehow blown out all the torches down this side street, keeping them safely hidden within the darkness. The refugees had the sense not to speak at the seven of them ran to the line of ships bordering the west side of the village. Just like she’d arranged, a fishing vessel was waiting there, its captain standing at the bow. He was a loyal friend to Kya, and had made the trek from the Southern Empire to the Earth Kingdom many times. It wasn’t easy to convince him to harbor Empire fugitives, but Katara had eventually been able to buy his silence.

“This man will take you to a port city of the Earth Kingdom,” Katara spoke softly, trying to disguise her voice. She looked at the five refugees. Two men, two women, and a teenage girl. “You’ll have to take care of your papers and accomodations when you get there.” They all nodded. The girl was crying.

“How can we repay you?” one of the women said. She was older than the rest with gray streaks in her wavy brown hair.

Katara grapsed her hand. “Live. Just live.”

She saw them onto the ship and, releasing her focus on the ice blockade in the village, sent the ship out of the harbor on a wave that blackened her vision, nearly making her pass out. The Blue Spirit grapped her upper arms, balancing her, and she looked up curiously at the curling tendrils of his mask. His grip tightened on her, and she realized with a start that they were standing far, far too close. She felt her heart race as she pulled away, panicking. Was he a Southern Empire citizen? Had he recognized her beneath her disguise?

_I should kill him._ It was the logical thing to do, and even though she was physically tired, the power of the full moon still hummed in her ears. She couldn’t risk having her identity revealed. If that happened, she was as good as dead. Her father wouldn’t hesitate this time. But something stopped her. She could easily disarm him and reveal his identity as well, and something about the way he was watching her, waiting, made her think he knew this, too. They looked up the street at the same time as a shout reverberated against the closely-packed buildings. The soldiers were coming. Katara took a step back from the man, wringing her hands, hoping she was making the right decision. He inclined his head towards her, and she did the same. Then he darted away and disappeared into the shadows of the village.

 ___

Soldiers were prowling around the palace grounds when Katara returned. She managed to sneak through their watch, just barely, and slip back into the palace. It was late enough that the servants had been dismissed, and mercifully she only had to dodge one guard on the way back to her room.

She let a small laugh escape her lips. She wasn’t sure how she’d done it. She’d never had to sustain such a difficult bending move for such an extended time, and it had definitely taken its toll. Her head was pounding. Without the full moon, she never would’ve been able to save those people.

And the masked man? Well, he had certainly been helpful. Part of Katara was still worried he had figured out her identity. But she was immensely grateful for his help. Katara ran a hand through her hair. She’d ditched her disguise upon entering the palace and hid it safely in a storage room no one used. Her hair trailed halfway down her back, and was matted from water and sea salt. Her face still itched from where the berry paint had swirled on her skin, and though it was annoying, it reminded her of what she’d been able to do. She had saved those people. And she didn’t even have to bloodbend.

She heard the door behind her burst open and turned to see Zuko sprinting down the hallway after her, a smile splitting his face.

“Zuko?” she asked, wondering if she was hallucinating from exhaustion. Without slowing, he plowed into her, his arms twining around her body.

He said, “I heard what happened.”

Katara’s blood froze. Did he somehow find out what she’d done? She pulled back just enough to see his face. “What do you mean?”

“The refugees! They were rescued. I—um—I overheard some guards talking about it.”

Katara smiled tentatively, still unsure if he knew of her involvement. “That’s wonderful, Zuko! But I told you, my hands were tied. Whatever happened, I had nothing to do with it.”

His grin faltered, but his eyes continued to glitter. “I understand. But I’m still happy about it.”

Katara put a hand to his cheek, all too aware that his hands were still around her waist. “Of course,” she said. “I am too.” More than anything, she was relieved he’d listened to her and stayed away from the execution. After he left she’d been terrified he was going to try to sneak out, or worse: approach her father about it. She threaded her fingers through his raven hair. It was growing longer since she’d first seen him; it was past his ears now. He put his palm on top of her hand and leaned into her touch. 

“Katara…”

“Mhm?” she sighed, letting her eyes close.

She felt him step closer, then, and his hair tickled her nose. She opened her eyes in time to see him close the distance between them, his lips falling softly on hers, light as a feather. They’d almost been in this exact spot the first time they kissed, and the memory made Katara’s chest warm. She leaned into the kiss and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer. Suddenly, Zuko wasn’t so gentle, and his fingernails dug into her back, pushing them flush against one another. Her mouth opened, letting him inside, and he kissed her fervently. Her hands ran up and down his back, dragging along the dark shirt he wore, making him groan.

And, to her dismay, making him pull back.

Her eyes fluttered open. His were inches away, molten gold with desire. His skin was flushed pink, his hair disheveled, and she was certain she wasn’t in much better condition.

“It’s getting late,” he murmured, his voice low and rough.

As much as she wanted to protest, she could feel her body giving out on her. Her muscles ached and, at that moment, the only thing she wanted more than to stand there with Zuko for eternity was a long, hot bath. The thought of Zuko in that bath with her flitted across her mind and made her stomach clench and her face burn, but she quickly pushed it away.

“You’re right,” she replied, prying her hands off his shirt.

He leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to her nose. “Goodnight, Princess.”

She looked up at him. “Goodnight, Zuko.”

            As he walked back down the hallway, Katara felt winter moths fluttering around her stomach, tickling her insides, and she was sure her chest would burst with how full it felt. How was it possible that she could _still_ feel his lips on hers, his hands on her cheeks, as if he were standing right in front of her? Katara crossed her arms over her abdomen, trying to hold that warm feeling inside for as long as she could.

            Even after he had disappeared behind the door, and his footsteps faded from the stairs, Katara could still hear her heart throbbing like footsteps in her chest, _boom, boom, boom_ …

            Katara stopped moving. She stood in the middle of the hall, halfway between the stairwell and her room, and held her breath.

            The heartbeats—or what she had thought were heartbeats—continued.

            _Boom, boom, boom…boom, boom, boom…_

The top of her head went cold. Her hands, still pressed tightly against her stomach, began to tremble uncontrollably.

            _Get yourself together,_ she ordered herself, balling her hands into fists. She allowed herself a deep, albeit shaky breath, and turned around.

            “Who’s there?” she half-shouted into the darkness, which seemed more threatening than it ever had before. There was no doubt she’d heard footsteps. They’d been keeping pace with her own, so they had been faint. But she knew what she heard.

            Sure enough, after a few moments of utter stillness, she heard a shallow intake of breath from the end of the hallway. Whoever it was, they weren’t very good at stealth.

            “Sokka? Is that you?” No reply. “Sokka,” she began, feeling her face heat up with rage and embarassment. “I swear if that’s you, I am going to kill you.” Still no reply. After a few moments, she turned around and continued walking, keeping her eyes up and arms out. She was not a fan of surprises, and if Sokka was just being an idiot, he deserved whatever he got.

            She was contemplating how she would get revenge on him for scaring her—water wedgie? Or something more sophisticated, like the torpedo? —when a series of rapid footfalls erupted from behind her. Katara spun back around just in time to see a dark figure emerge from the shadows, barreling towards her. Katara tried to shout for help, but her throat felt tight with fear, and nothing came out.

She barely managed to bend a shield of ice in between her and the attacker before a sheath of metal—some sort of archaic spear—pierced a fist-sized hole in it. Katara sprinted towards her room, tossing streams of water behind her as she ran, but something clamped to her ankle and she fell, hitting the ice floor chin first.

            She groaned loudly, feeling the shock of the fall pulse throughout her body, momentarily paralyzing her. It gave the attacker time to flip her over, and only then did Katara see the plain black mask covering his—her? —face. At first she’d thought it was the Blue Spirit, but the mask was completely different, and this person was definitely taller. Then she saw the glint of something dangling from his free hand.

            Katara’s eyes widened as she realized it was a dagger. The attacker’s arm moved and she felt a hot searing on her cheek. Katara jerked forward, clutching her face, and the attacker pulled back. He raised his arm again, poised to kill this time, and Katara whipped a jet of water into the person’s masked face, giving her just enough time to bend the water around her and send her shooting backwards towards the stairwell at the other end of the hall.

            She scrambled out the door and took the stairs two at a time, all she could manage without tripping up them. _What should I do? Where are the guards?_ she thought, panicking. Halfway up the stairs she heard the doors below her slam open and the unmistakable sound of her attacker’s feet thundered after her. She couldn’t go to Zuko—he was up on the third floor, and besides, she’d only put him and all the servants in danger. The door to the second floor came into view and Katara burst through it. There was only one person she could go to.

            She managed to find her voice as she stumbled down the hallway to the healing chamber. “Mother!” she shouted, her voice echoing again and again off the glowing blue walls. “Mother help!”

            “Katara?” she heard Kya’s voice from inside the room, and as soon as she came into view, Katara threw herself into her mother’s arms.

            “Katara, what’s wrong? What happened to your face?” Kya asked, shock and confusion evident in her voice. Katara was breathing too hard to get the words out and could only manage to point towards the door. But Kya understood at once. She shoved Katara, still panting, behind her and squared her shoulders. Seconds later, the attacker ran into the room. Kya was already moving: her arms spun in an intricate pattern and the ice around the attacker’s feet wrapped around his legs like eels. But the attacker used a knife the size of his forearms to batter his way out of the ice and, faster than Katara could imagine possible, sprinted at Katara.

            But Kya would not give up her ground, and moved to block his path, sending a sheet of daggers at him, only two of which made contact.

            “Katara, get out of here!” Kya yelled.

            Katara didn’t know how she could help, since she was bleeding profusely and was too shaken up to heal herself, but she couldn’t leave her mother alone. “No, Mom—”

            “Katara, go _now!_ ” Kya insisted, bending a wave at the person in black with one hand, and pushing Katara back with the other. “Go get your father!”

            _Father_ , Katara thought numbly, the words not sinking in. Then it clicked.

            Her mother had cornered the assailent at the other end of the room and Katara took the opportunity to sneak out the door. She felt blood drip cooly down her cheek as she ran to the war council room. She didn’t know if he would be there, but she had to take the chance. Her mother was a strong bender, but not a master. With no guards around, her father was the only one powerful enough to stop the attacker. She felt like she was running through mud as she made her way down the corridor. Finally, after what seemed like ages, she burst through the wooden doors of the council room and saw her father there, deep in conversation with his advisors.

            “Father!” she screamed. He whipped his head around and glared at her, as did his advisors. But then he must have noticed the blood, because his composure slipped, if only momentarily.

            “Katara? What’s wrong?”

            Katara collapsed to her knees, the exhaustion finally catching up with her. And then she looked up at him.

            “It’s Mom.”

            He stood at once and was running from the room before his advisors could stop him, before Katara could explain. The old badger-moles glared at her as they passed, going significantly slower than her father. _Hurry up!_ She wanted to shout at them, but didn’t have the energy. It took everything she had to simply raise her hand to touch her throbbing cheek and find it was slimy and drenched with red when she took it away. As she watched, her fingers began to blur and fade altogether, and then everything was black.


	39. Chapter 39

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's note: I really have no excuse as to why it took me so long to put up this chapter! I sincerely apologize and I sincerely appreciate those of you who have stuck with me <3 Zuko's part is a little longer than Katara's here, so keep that in mind. And, as always, please comment and review and like and all that jazz! Your comments and fanart give me life :D Lastly, sorry about the weird formatting, I don't know why it does this and it's too much work to change it.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own A:tLA or its characters, just my own!

* * *

 

“ _Toph!_ ” Zuko roared, making half the mess hall turn to look at him. He only had eyes for the girl in blue sitting in the corner of the room. She rolled her eyes but didn’t fight him, opting instead to follow him out into the hallway before things got violent. As soon as they were out of earshot of the other servants, Zuko turned on her.

            “I thought you said she wouldn’t get hurt!” he hissed.

            “Would you calm down?”

            “I will _not_ calm down! What have you done?” Zuko shook Toph’s shoulders as if he could force the confession out of her. He had only just heard about Katara and the Empress and he was livid. And scared. His hands hadn’t stopped shaking. The whole point of the coup was to gain peace without any more death. And Toph had almost caused two, going rogue on their plan. Zuko could see the Empress clearly in his mind, her smooth dark skin and blue eyes, so like Katara’s…

            He hadn’t been to see her yet. Loq had told him about the Empress’s passing a few moments ago, while he was getting food. Judging by the tranquility of the mess hall, he guessed that not many of the other servants knew, either. The Empress had been kind to all the palace workers, and he knew her death would rattle them.

            “ _I didn’t do anything!_ ” Toph shot back at him, pushing against his chest, making him take a step back. He just stared at her.

            “What do you mean?” He lowered his voice. “Don’t you know who was behind the attack?” With the soldiers at the execution and the guards protecting the Emperor and Prince, the palace was practically defenseless; it had been the perfect opportunity for someone to strike. He assumed Toph had launched the coup without telling him, without giving him any warning to keep Katara safe. But now that he thought about it, that seemed rather uncharacteristic of her.

            Toph hesitated before answering, and he could tell by the tilt of her head that she was making sure no one was listening in on their conversation.

            “Come on.” She grabbed his shirt sleeve and led him to a broom closet barely big enough to fit both of them. Safe in the confined space, Zuko let a small flame burn from his finger. Even that small act of bending felt incredible, like he had been crouching on his hands and knees for the past few months and was finally able to stand. The light illuminated Toph’s face. She was usually so composed—it worried him to see her this distraught.

            “Zuko, the people who attacked Katara and killed the Empress…they were the ones I warned you about.”

            His breath caught. “They’re already in the palace?”

            “Yes.”

            They were both silent for a moment, the muted footsteps down the hall the only reminder that time was still passing, and that their absence would not go unnoticed.

            Zuko shook his head. “What do we do?” _This is all my fault,_ he realized gravely. If he hadn’t been so reckless the night before, the guards wouldn’t have been out in the city instead of in the palace. And if he hadn’t let Katara go to her room alone…but he had no business following her there. If anything, it could have gotten them both in trouble. On the other hand, maybe he could have prevented the attack.

            Toph had given him the responsibility of protecting the royal family, and he’d let her—and Katara—down. The flame flickered weakly.

            “My people on the outside are working on it,” Toph started, “but for now I guess—” She was cut off by a deep, bellowing voice echoing incoherently through the corridor. Her head turned to the sound. “What’s going on out there? It feels like a stampede.”

            Zuko cracked the door open to see a group of soldiers standing outside the mess hall.

            “Everyone out _now_!” one of them demanded. Two other soldiers held open the doors and more were shoving the servants out of the room and down the hall with much more force than necessary.

            “Why is everyone leaving?” Toph asked. Zuko had no idea. He was debating whether to join the other servants or lock themselves in the closet when he saw Jin and Orchard being jostled with the flow of the crowd.

            “We have to go,” Zuko told Toph, and opened the door without hesitation. A soldier standing off to the side heard the hinges creak and spied them.

            “What are you two doing down there?” He ran over and grabbed both of them, throwing them into the line of servants. Zuko weaved his way through, vaguely aware of Toph’s fingers clutching the back of his shirt, and managed to catch up to Jin.

            “Are you okay?” he asked.

            She looked relieved to see him, but there was still fear in her eyes. “We’re fine.”

            “Do you know what this is about?”

            They shook their heads. Orchard voice trembled as she explained, “They just barged in and made everyone leave. They didn’t even say where we’re going.”

            The crowd surged into the stairwell and descended to the second floor. He knew they were going to the throne room before they even turned the corner and were forced through the tall wooden doors. It was where he’d almost been sentenced to imprisonment, where the Emperor had assigned him to be Sokka’s servant after Katara had saved him. She wasn’t there this time. Instead, a row of soldiers stood in front of the throne where the Emperor sat deathly still with his eyes closed. Even from the back of the room Zuko could see the dark circles beneath them, stark against his unusually pale skin. Two advisors sat on either side of him, their faces stoic.

More soldiers lined the room, and a group of them enclosed the palace guards. They were all stripped of their uniforms, but Zuko recognized many of them, and even if he hadn’t it was clear from their large, muscled bodies what their jobs were. Usually they appeared fearless and ruthless, but now they looked like…children. Small, frightened children. He felt fingernails dig into his forearm and saw Jin looking in the same direction, her face crumpling at the sight of the guards.

            The servants were ushered towards the front of the room and made to genuflect before the Emperor. Zuko bit the inside of his cheek to keep from lashing out at the soldier who kicked the back of his knees, causing him to collapse against the ice floor; he tasted blood.

He assumed all the servants had been gathered when he heard the echoing thud of the wooden doors and the second thud of the heavy beam that locked them all in the room.

 _This isn’t good,_ Zuko thought, worry tickling at the base of his neck.

Only then did the Emperor stir. His hand moved to pinch the bridge of his nose and he frowned, revealing deep wrinkles around his lips that Zuko had never seen before.

“I’m sure by now you’ve all heard what happened last night,” he said in a tight voice, his eyes still closed. “For those of you who don’t know, let me enlighten you. Last night, the palace was attacked by an assassin who attacked our Princess and murdered our Empress.”

There was an audible ripple through the crowd from those who hadn’t known. It became clear why they’d been gathered:

The murderer hadn’t been caught.

“This was not only an attack on the royal family. This was an attack on the entire Water Empire, and the assailant _will_ be punished as I see fit.”

            The Emperor finally opened his eyes. Zuko was shocked to see that the whites of his eyes were veined with red and that his blue irises—so similar to Katara’s—were circled in crimson. He had seen Katara get upset enough to know that the Emperor had been crying. Even as he spoke to the gathering Zuko could see his eyes begin to water.

            “Such an act of terrorism will _not_ be tolerated!” He slammed his hand on the arm of the throne. “Who was it that committed this atrocity? I demand to know _immediately!_ ” His voice shook with something—whether rage, or passion, or sadness, Zuko couldn’t tell. And although he didn’t feel any sympathy for this man who had done so many horrible things, he could almost understand. He had lost his mistress and wife within a year of each other, and almost his daughter—the heir to his throne—with them. When Azula had been killed, Zuko’s entire family had been racked with anger and heartache. The entire nation had grieved. It had taken Zuko years to heal, and even still he felt the pain of losing his sister all the time.

            Zuko loved Azula. And while he never thought he could have anything in common with Emperor Hakoda, he was surprised, and somewhat disturbed, to see his own grief reflected in his eyes.

            The Emperor gestured to the soldiers by the wall and they escorted the guards in front of the throne.

            “ _You_ ,” he sneered down at them. None would look him in the eye. “You all were supposed to be _protecting my family_.”

The way he spoke made Zuko’s heart lurch. He never thought the Emperor could feel anything but rage and hatred. But it was right there, in the way he said ‘my family.’ Zuko could hear it plain as day: Misery. Loss. Desolation. Heartbreak.

            “I-I am sorry, your Highness,” one brave guard said. He stood in the front of the cluster, holding his hands, which were chained in ice, above his head, as if in prayer. “After the demonstration in the city we were looking for the renegades, but they had escaped. And then it was Mu Li’s birthday last night, and we were supposed to be taking shifts, as we always do, but some of us might’ve had a little too much to drink, and-and…” His voice became thin and dry, as if trying to force the words from his throat. “We were distracted. It was an honest mistake, your Excellency.”

            The Emperor’s expression did not change throughout the confession. Zuko could feel Jin shaking beside him, and he took her hand. She tried to smile at him, but all that came from it was a twitch of her lips. He didn’t feel much like smiling either.

            “An honest mistake?” the Emperor repeated. “Letting my wife _die_ was an _honest mistake_?”

            Without warning, his hand moved and a long, thin shard of ice lodged itself in the neck of the man who had spoken. Zuko couldn’t see his face, but he heard his breath falter, then pick up, gurgling. He could imagine the blood pooling at the corners of his lips.

            The soldiers dragged the man’s lifeless body from the room.

            “Would anyone else like to give me an excuse?” the Emperor asked, devoid of emotion, daring someone to speak up. No one did. “I thought not.”

            No one breathed as the Emperor fell silent, his icy eyes considering the assembly. The advisors looked at each other, but did not say anything. Even they wouldn’t interfere, though Zuko knew how much they enjoyed doing that.

            “I have made my decision.” The Emperor gestured once more to the soldiers. “Take the guards to the cliffs immediately. They are hereby sentenced to death by drowning.”

            A cry broke out among the guards who protested as the soldiers began to lead them from the room like nothing more than cattle en route to slaughter, following the path of their comrade’s dead body. Still kneeling, the servants said nothing. Zuko saw most drop their heads as the guards passed, too afraid to stand up for them, to stand against the Emperor. In this state, he could have the whole capital killed without a second thought. To even try and reason with him would be a death wish.

            As soon as the doors closed behind the guards and their pleading cries faded, the Emperor turned his attention to the servants.

            “Now you lot.”

Zuko let out a hot, slow breath. It was taking all his willpower to keep from glaring up at the Emperor.

“Tell me who did this at once, and I may spare some of your lives.” Jin began to shake, and Zuko tightened his grip on her hand. _Calm down or you’ll draw attention to yourself,_ he wanted to say, but he didn’t dare. He couldn’t risk himself now. He couldn’t die, or whoever was after Katara and her family—what remained of it, anyway—would have all the opportunity in the world.

            “Surely one of you must know _something_ ,” continued Emperor Hakoda, sounding falsely conversational. He stood up and paced the platform. Zuko might’ve thought he finally got a hold of his emotions if he didn’t notice the Emperor wringing his hands together, rubbing the skin raw. No, he was just trying to trick them into talking. “There was no one missing from the servant’s quarters late last night? No one sneaking out to go who-knows-where and do who-knows-what?”

            Zuko froze. Even though he knew beyond all doubt that he was not guilty of _this_ crime, that sounded just like him. He stole a glance at the Emperor. A rush of adrenaline drove down his spine as he met the Emperor’s gaze, and he looked down quickly. He wasn’t responsible. He had nothing to do with this. No one knew he had left the palace last night. No one knew about him and Katara except for Toph, but she wouldn’t give him up. No one would do that to him, no one would—

            “Him!” a voice said, breaking the tense silence, and Jin’s hand went absolutely still beneath his. Zuko pulled away swiftly and looked up to see all eyes on him.

            _This can’t be happening._

Jin stared at him with wide eyes, but she hadn’t spoken. Rather, an old man had stood and was pointing right at him with an accusatory finger. Zuko recognized him instantly. He was the Fire Nation traitor, the one who had deserted after he’d been drafted. The one who had declared his loyalty to the Water Empire.

            “That boy didn’t come back until late last night, and he’s always missing for hours at a time. I’ll bet he killed the Empress and attacked the Princess. I’ll bet he’s as assassin from the Fire Nation!” The hall buzzed with sounds of disgust for both Zuko and the traitorous old man, people who agreed that Zuko was the culprit, and people who defended him. Zuko couldn’t seem to find his voice. He simply stared at the Emperor, frozen despite the fear that was boiling his insides.

            The Emperor snapped his fingers and two soldiers parted the crowd of kneeling servants to grab Zuko and drag him to the throne. They threw him on his stomach and he groaned, pushing himself back to his knees. In one swift movement, the Emperor leaned down and lifted him by the throat, choking him. He glared into Zuko’s eyes for a few moments, and then something sparked in their icy deadness.

            “I recognize you. You’re my son’s servant.” He turned his head, called Sokka’s name, and then dropped Zuko like a sack of vegetables. He collapsed to the ground, his windpipe scratching like fire with every uneven breath. Zuko hadn’t even noticed Sokka standing to the side of the room before, but now he approached the throne, arms crossed over his white robe, sword hanging from his side. His expression was unreadable. He wore the mourning colors of the Water Empire, but Zuko wondered if he truly mourned for Kya like the Emperor did, even though she was not his birth mother. He wondered if Sokka knew all Kya had done for him and Reya.

            “Is this your servant?” he asked his son.

            Sokka nodded. “And my sparring partner.”

            “What do you have to say for yourself, peasant? Did you commit this unspeakable act?”

            Zuko pushed himself to his knees again and said, breathlessly, “No, your Highness.” It killed him to cower before this sorry excuse for a ruler, but he had to nonetheless. He didn’t have a choice; it was give in or die.

            “I don’t believe you.”

            “I swear,” Zuko growled despite himself. “I was nowhere near the Empress or the Princess last night.” A lie, but one that could save his skin.

            “Ah,” the Emperor mused, “but this man here says you were out late. Do you have an excuse for that?”

            Zuko choked. He couldn’t tell him the truth, that he’d been in the village early that night and later with Katara. It would contradict what he had just said and moreover, sentence him to a much worse fate. There was no way he’d be allowed to commit two counts of treason—one of them _being_ with the Princess in that way—and make it out alive. He had to lie. He had to come up with something, an alibi, something believable, but what? He had already taken too long. What could he—

            “He was with me.”

            He recognized her voice as soon as she spoke, and whipped his head around to see Jin standing, a sole beacon amid an ocean of iceburgs.

            “With you,” the Emperor repeated, dubious.

            “Yes.”

            “Doing what?” the old traitorous man cut in skeptically, his four remaining teeth grimacing at her.

            “What do you _think_ we were doing for hours, late at night?” she snapped, insinuating just what they were apparently doing, and the old man’s eyebrows shot up his forehead. Jin, for all the nervousness she was feeling before, seemed completely in control now.

            “Will anyone corroborate this?” one of the Emperor’s advisors asked, breaking the awkward silence that had befallen the room.

            “I will,” Orchard said, her voice not nearly as collected as Jin’s, but certain nonetheless. “I saw them both last night. They were together, nowhere near the Empress or Princess. And they came back far before the attack happened. I swear.”

            The Emperor’s eyes narrowed at the three of them. Sokka watched the proceedings with vague interest as well, although his face was still closed off, which was unusual for him.

            “Very well.” The Emperor looked at Zuko, and Zuko at him, and he saw the gears working in his mind. “I tire of this,” he finally announced. “I won’t kill any of you. Yet. But you’d better hope none of you are lying to me. Get them out of here.” He flung his hand at the nearest line of soldiers and they began to gather the servants, most of whom took off running to the exit.

            Jin met Zuko’s gaze and he tried to express his gratitude through his eyes. How could he ever repay her for this? He already had a list of debts he owed her a mile long. She gave him a small smile and turned around with Orchard, leaving the room.

            “You, fire brat.” Zuko looked up at the Emperor, who had resumed his brooding in his throne. “Stay.”

            Zuko’s throat tightened. What more could he possibly want from him? _Unless_ , he realized with a chilling fear, _he didn’t believe Jin’s story._ Was he going to kill him anyway?

            Zuko prepared himself for a fight, though his knees were shaking with stress and anxiety. He was in no position to bend right now. He didn’t know if he could even defend himself.

            The Emperor extended a hand at Sokka who approached and sat in the smaller throne beside him, kicking out one of the advisors who grimaced at the young man. Then the Emperor looked at Zuko.

            “I remember you,” he said, fatigue evident in his face and voice. “You’re the fighter from the dungeons. The one who excelled in the trials. Zuko.”

The sound of his name coming from the Emperor’s lips was all wrong, but Zuko nodded once.

            “And my son says you’re his sparring partner.”

Zuko’s gaze flickered to Sokka who was regarding him indifferently. Again, Zuko nodded.

            “Son,” the Emperor said, almost amused, “is he a worthy opponent?”

            Sokka’s chin raised slightly, and his throat moved, as if he was forcing himself to say whatever was coming. “Yes, father. He is a skilled swordsman, _almost_ equivalent to myself.” Zuko fought against the urge to roll his eyes. After a pause, Sokka’s flickered to Zuko, then quickly away. “He has had a few opportunities to take my life, yet he has not.” _A few. Yeah, okay,_ Zuko thought sardonically. But he had to give the Prince credit for admitting such a thing. One of the advisors jerked around at this, as if shocked the Prince would ever put himself in a position so demeaning. But Sokka stared steadily at Zuko. “He is the worthiest opponent I have had.”

            Zuko chest swelled at the praise despite himself. His choice of words had been backhanded, and understated, but surprisingly kind. They seemed to please the Emperor, who placed his chin on his clasped hands.

            “Then it is decided. Since the guards I had previously employed have been discharged and subsequently dispatched, I have need for a personal guard for my daughter. The few remaining soldiers will be occupied training the new guard and all available personnel will be investigating my wife’s murder. I can only entrust her safety to someone loyal to the Empire and strong enough to protect her.” The Emperor regarded Zuko with his icy eyes. “You.”

           

* * *

 

 

            Katara was already awake by the time Toph came into her room. She couldn’t tell what time of day it was, how long it had been since—

            She felt so weak. Sono had been working on her injury long before she woke up. It had startled her at first to see the old man’s wrinkly hands so close to her face, to feel the cool throb of healing water against her skin. Apparently he’d been doing a lot of work before, while she’d been unconscious.

            “Hey, Sweetums,” Toph said as she entered, a hesitant smile on her face. Katara just glanced the girl, then returned to looking at the opposite wall. There was nothing particularly interesting about the wall, which is why she so enjoyed watching it. She was waiting for it to change, somehow. To defy logic. To prove this was all a dream.

            _It’s not._

            “Sono, you can go. The Emperor wants to talk to you,” Toph said to the healer, who nodded and gently replaced the white bandage on Katara’s cheek. He was a squat old man with a thick gray mustache and thick glasses that made his eyes look twice their normal size. He had freaked Katara out ever since she was little, which was why she never let him heal her. She always went to her—

            She had always wanted to put something on that wall. A painting or scroll or something. But she’d never gotten around to it, and today she was glad. Its plainness was distracting. Toph took Sono’s seat beside her bed and leaned forward so her elbows rested on the blanket. Katara was still under the sheets, lying on her back with her arms at her sides, unable, unwilling, to move. Usually she slept on her side with her knees against her chest to keep warm. But she couldn’t even remember returning to her bed last night. Earlier that morning, before everything came back to her, she woke up to Sono probing her face with glowing blue fingers, fingers that reminded her of something, of last night, of—

            “How are you?” Toph asked, her voice annoyingly saccharine. Katara didn’t want to look at her. She didn’t want to see the pity in her eyes. So she said nothing.

 _Maybe if I don’t move or speak she’ll think I’ve fallen asleep_. _It’s not like she knows if my eyes are open or closed, anyway_.

She knew she should feel bad about exploiting the girl’s disability, but then again, she didn’t feel much of anything.

            Toph’s weight shifted on the bed. “I…I guess they’ve told you everything already, huh?”

            _All I need to know_.

After Sono sent word that Katara was awake, her father’s advisor, Korak, came in and filled her in on all the ‘necessary’ details.

            _We don’t want to overwhelm you in this…state you’re in,_ he had said.

Translation: You’re too weak to handle this.

            _But there’s been an accident._

Translation: There’s been a murder.

            _Your mother, tragically, was injured beyond healing._

Translation: Your mother’s dead.

            _Your father just wants you to focus on getting better._

Translation: Everyone, including your father, knows it’s your fault.

            Gentle fingers looked for Katara’s arm under the blanket. “Katara,” Toph started softly, “it’s okay to be upset. No one will think less of you.”

            _Really? They won’t?_

She wanted to scream. She wanted to take Toph by the shoulders and shout at her.

 _If I’m upset, I’m weak. If I’m weak, I lose. It’s different for everyone else. Besides, it was_ my _fault!_ I’m _to blame! I don’t deserve the privilege of being upset._

Something in the dark recesses of her mind suggested that she was being too hard on herself, but she couldn’t hear it. She wouldn’t. The truth was too loud. 

            Toph tried to talk to her, to pull her out of whatever fog she was lost in, but eventually gave up. Katara only felt relief when she left the room. A few hours later Ani came waltzing in, carrying a silver platter heaped with soups and sandwiches and a note that read “With deepest condolences, Loq,” but she didn’t touch it. She didn’t eat anything for the next two days, despite the trays of food Ani and Toph—the only ones she allowed in the room, besides Sono—brought her.

            Three days after she woke up, there was a new knock at the door. Toph had been in the room with her, just sitting silently as Katara stared at the wall—her new favorite pastime.

            “Who is it?” Toph called, though Katara suspected she already knew.

            “It’s me,” a familiar voice replied, but she couldn’t quite place it.

            Toph got up and padded over to the door. She stuck her head out into the hall, and Katara heard her say, “I don’t think she wants to see you.”

            Murmuring. Then, “Okay, but I’m warning you, she’s not well.”

            Katara heard a new, heavier set of feet enter the room as the door clicked shut behind them. Whoever it was sat in the chair beside her bed quietly. She appreciated this and thought that maybe she’d let them stay, until they started speaking.

            “Katara?”

            Her eyes, heavy with disuse, dragged over to him. He was a mess: wispy black strands of hair hung low over his brow, too long for his face. He had dark bags under his eyes (she couldn’t imagine what _she_ looked like, seeing as she hadn’t slept for three days straight), and his skin was pale, almost ghostly yellow.

            “Katara, are you okay?”

            _What a question, Zuko_.

She wanted to spit her venonmous thoughts into his ghostly, skeleton face. But her lips wouldn’t move.

            “Please, Katara. Talk to me. Talk to anyone.”

            She wouldn’t—couldn’t? Zuko sighed and ran a hand through his hair, a simple action he had done so many times, something she had, at one point, almost fallen in love with. She wondered how frustrated she was making everyone. It probably would have been funny had it not been so unfunny. There was no humor in any of this.

            “Okay,” he sighed after a few moments, and leaned on the bed. “Then I’ll talk to you. You’ve probably heard that I’ve been assigned to round-the-clock guard duty for you.”

            She _had_ heard about this, actually. Toph had told her yesterday after bringing her fourth untouched bowl of soup and setting it on the table, where all the other bowls were trying so hard to grow mold. Zuko had stayed outside her room all day and all night, and even though he had his own key to her room—for safety purposes—he refused to let himself in. He had been waiting for Katara to ask for him. But apparently he’d gotten impatient. Or he simply realized that she was never going to do that.

            “Sokka wasn’t too happy about the situation, but he’s the one that convinced your father it was a good idea, so he kind of asked for it.”

            _Great_. _Another reason for my brother to hate me._

            “But on the upside, I’m all yours.”

            Against her will and conscience, this stirred up something in her heart, something that seemed so unfamiliar to her, now. For a brief, fluttering moment, she met Zuko’s unwavering gaze. Then she returned to the wall. But he kept talking.

            “Katara, I know you’re hurting. Believe me, I _know_. But you’ve got to start to heal. You can’t keep skipping meals and staying in bed all day. I can see it in your eyes. You need to move.”

            _I don’t_ need _to do anything._

She didn’t think it with as much spite as she wanted to; some part of her knew he was right. But if she got out of this bed and started moving, watched the sun and moon rise and fall, then time would start again. As if the the piles of dishes accumulating in her room weren’t proof enough that life was going on without _her_. She just wanted it to slow down, to wait a little longer. To give her one more try to change things.

            If she could stop time like she had started to do three days ago, then maybe, just _maybe_ ….


End file.
